


Love and Hate, All the Same

by WhyDontWeBegin



Series: Of Light[ning] and Shadow [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: CT G'raha Tia, Crying, Crystal Tower Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Dominant G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Expect them, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecurities, Lyna is a great wingman, M/M, Memories, Men Crying, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multi, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Patch 2.0: A Realm Reborn Spoilers, Patch 4.0: Stormblood Spoilers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Sil'toh is a pretty insecure WoL, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trauma, Trees, fair warning, frequently reordered, just general story spoilers, local rogue decides that yes he will indulge the terrible idea, no beta we die like men, soft angst, still in rarepair hell folks, thancred waters has an ACCENT, thangst, tired immortal remembers what feelings are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDontWeBegin/pseuds/WhyDontWeBegin
Summary: A series of oneshots regarding Sil'toh Sylphystia, Warrior of Light, and the men she happens to love.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters, Hien Rijin/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Thancred Waters/Hien Rijin, Thancred Waters/Warrior of Light/Hien Rijin, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: Of Light[ning] and Shadow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554742
Comments: 48
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi I'm still alive in this fandom maybe  
.. ish.  
welcome to self indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thancred and Sil'toh finally get around to working out their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp guess its expanding. I might go through and edit this later, maybe.

Sil’toh leaned against Thancred’s shoulder, humming in thought, tail flicking back and forth lazily. Oh, she wanted to talk to him, explain how much he meant to her. But she was rather certain she’d never be able to find the words, since she couldn’t bring herself to try and find them. She hoped, though, that he’d understand. (She knew that if he did, he’d probably pretend he didn’t.)

He hummed quietly after a moment, hand curled around his cup, staring at it for a second longer before tossing back the drink in one go. He felt her ear flick, brushing past his jaw, and for a moment something in him wished he could hold her. Thancred quickly pushed it aside, sighing through his nose. He knew- he knew he’d been distant since the Praetorium. Since she’d saved his life. But he couldn’t help but think... he should’ve been stronger. Smarter. Should’ve realized that an Ascian would take advantage of his state-

“Than?” Sil’toh’s voice cut through his thoughts, gentle and quiet and soft. So unlike how she usually spoke- firm, blunt (if harsh), all sarcasm and sass and confidence. Jabs and quips and harsh laughs, insults with no edge to them because they were from affection. He remembered the way her eyes would narrow, the way she’d shift her weight all to her left foot and cross her arms, lips pressed into a firm line when she was angry. The way her voice would lower into a near-snarl, deeper than her normal voice. (Something told him that she was naturally softer-spoken, though, more like how she’d just addressed him. He wondered if it was a result of her past, the one she hadn’t mentioned.)

He’d noticed that she’d developed this habit after Titan. Something told him- more than just her lack of social etiquette (regardless of how good she was at masking her own emotions) or the fact that she was rough around the edges in a way that he hadn’t seen in a long time- that Sil’toh Sylphystia had spent a lot of time alone before the Scions. She’d been uncomfortable, at first, when dealing with them. Especially with how excitable Yda could be, and Sil’toh was much more calm in comparison. She functioned much better with Y’shtola or Papalymo, who were more on her end of the spectrum. She’d been rather tentative with himself- uncertain how to respond to his flirtations when she realized that’s what they were, other times not even realizing. It was only when he began to pick up on her tells that she’d begun to warm up to him, because if nothing else, before Lahabrea had ruined everything, he’d possibly been the one best at reading her.

He wondered why. But- “Hm?” Sil’toh was probably waiting for vocal acknowledgement that he heard her. He felt her weight shift against him, and almost missed the warm pressure of her leaning against him. (She was still cooler than he was, he’d noticed- her hands were often frozen when she took care of him, during his recovery.)

“... No, ‘s nothing,” Sil’toh mumbled, leaning forward, putting an elbow on the bar in front of them and resting her chin in her hand. She heard him shift and felt his gaze, observed him out of her peripheral vision. _Concern. Worry. He doesn’t believe me. Not that it was a strong lie in the first place,_ she thought. “Really.”

Thancred gave her a disbelieving hum in reply, but didn’t press. (She wished he did, wished he forced her to say something.) He turned back to stare at his empty cup, and the companionable silence was laced with a tension neither spoke of, a distance they weren’t sure how to bridge.

—

Yda tapped her foot against the floor impatiently. “They _do_ realize that they’re painfully obvious, don’t they?”

Y’shtola shook her head with a shrug. “This is something they ought to handle on their own, Yda. They’re still healing.”

“Yes, but even _I_ can tell. And Thancred’s not going to say anything even if he _has_ noticed!”

Yda immediately disregarded Y’shtola’s advice to give them time. She’d give Sil’toh _something_, alright- a piece of her mind.

—

“Yda, please leave me be. I’m trying to read,” Sil’toh huffed. It was true, she _was_ making a valiant attempt to ignore her masked ally by focusing on the book in front of her, but Yda seemed _very_ insistent. The Miqo’te gave up when a hand slammed into the page in front of her, a growl threatening to force its way out of her throat, but she settled on a glare.

“And _I_ am trying to help a friend!”

“Is that so,” she said, clearly unamused, tail swishing in irritation. Yda nodded, grinning. “With _what_, pray tell, would I need help?”

“Oh, you know... Thancred.”

Sil’toh choked on her next breath. Truly, she hated a number of things in that moment.

—

_I am _absolutely _going to kill Yda for this,_ Sil’toh decided. The tip of her tail flicked back and forth, her expression stony. Yda remained oblivious to her irritation and pushed her forward a step.

“Good luck!” And then she left with a thumbs up and a wide grin, though Sil’toh had the sneaking suspicion the woman had _every_ intention of observing. Azeyma grant her strength, because she was going to need it.

... Perhaps a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt.

(It most certainly did, but only because it wasn’t ‘a little’ like she’d intended, to be fair.)

“... Sil’toh?”

“Mhnnn?”

“Oh dear... let me help you home. Ah- actually, where _do_ you live, my friend?”

She frowned, looking up at him with her eyes narrowed. Sil’toh’s gaze was somewhat unfocused, he realized- he’d never seen her like this. Tipsy, yes, but not actually _drunk_. “Wah... how’d y’ know’ve got...”

Sil’toh’s words were spoken slowly, brow pinched. Something told Thancred he should’ve expected that response. By all means, he shouldn’t know she had a place- but he did. He’d realized it about a fortnight ago, when he’d discovered she didn’t stay at the inn rooms in the city-states half as often as he’d expect. “Worry not. I’ve not followed you home, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If I _had_, I hardly would’ve needed to _ask_ where it is. Nor have I mentioned it to our fellows.”

Sil’toh seemed thankful for that, visibly relaxing a fraction. He put his hands on her shoulders, frowning. “Sil’toh, are you alright?”

“... I ‘unno,” she mumbled after a moment. Thancred sighed and pulled her up, after which she staggered and all but fell into him. He felt his cheeks warm when the Miqo’te pressed her face into his shirt.

“Alright, come on,” he said, mostly to himself, pulling her around and putting her arm over his shoulders. He could tell she wasn’t making it home on her own.

—

Thancred was a little surprised she had a home in the Goblet. Sil’toh was far more suited to the milder climes of Gridania or Limsa, he knew that much, but he knew the place the moment he saw it. The yard itself just _screamed_ Sil’toh, but perhaps that was the trees she’d planted. He recalled she had an affection for a select few, after all. She grumbled when he reached the door, fumbling with her free hand for one of her pockets and pulling out a key.

He wasn’t sure _what_ he had expected to see inside.

The moment he opened the door, the smell of old books hit him. Wood and ink and dusty old pages. Warm light. (That, at least, explained why Sil’toh so often smelled like this. Not that he’d payed attention.) She had bookshelves- several, filled to the brim, and then piles and stacks spilling out onto the floor. He decided he could explore later, though, and assumed that her bedroom must’ve been- “Down.. second door,” she mumbled.

Suffice it to say, he got to the point where he just outright picked her up- much to the drunken Warrior’s bewilderment. She made a sound of surprise, flailing a little in his arms as he carried her downstairs. It was- distinctly Hingan, downstairs, he noticed. He’d noticed some of the same influence upstairs. Sil’toh bonked him lightly on the cheek. “No shoes… ’n th’…tatami.”

Thancred begrudgingly obliged, taking off his own before setting her down to remove hers. He could ask about all of this when she was sober. (He wondered if she would remember any of this come the morning.) Thancred picked her back up once he was done and Sil’toh settled into his arms, to his surprise. He pushed the second door open with his foot, a little surprised- the room was both small and rather barren. A mattress on the floor (futon, wasn’t it?) and a Maelstrom-issue dresser, a messy cabinet, but that was really it. He wondered what the other room was as he set her down on the futon.

He was about to leave when he felt a tug on his shirt and looked back to find her gripping the edge of it, ears pressed against her hair. The sight tugged at his heart. (He’d never seen Sil’toh look so _small _before, and it made him want to hold her until she was okay again.) “Stay. Please.” And she sounded _weak_. Thancred hated it, it was _wrong_, but at the same time it made so much sense. Sil’toh had never- she’d outright told him, once, that she’d never _wanted_ to be a hero. She didn’t want power or fame or recognition, she just wanted to _help_. (And to make ends meet, of course.)

He realized, after a moment longer, that she was scared. Sil’toh Sylphystia, the Warrior of Light, slayer of primals, the woman who’d fought an Ascian and _won_, the woman who’d saved his life was _afraid_. He wasn’t sure of _what_, but he knew that she was. Thancred knew that she was afraid and he _hated_ it. So he sat down next to her, put a hand over her own and rubbed the back of it with one calloused finger. Her hands were so small, her skin soft. He knew her fingers were calloused, too, but seeing her now she didn’t _seem_ like it. She was so very _delicate_ in this moment, locks of navy blue and green spilling around her head like a dark halo, starkly contrasting with her pale skin and silver eyes and the white pillow beneath. He could see tears swimming in her eyes and it made him _hate_. But his voice was soft when he spoke, regardless, as there was no way for him to direct it at her without being overwhelmed by guilt.

“If that’s what you want. But… you have nothing to fear, my friend. So why?”  
“B’cause… I can’t loose anoth’r person I love.”

Thancred felt his heart freeze in his chest. Something told him he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

—

Sil’toh woke up slowly. The very first thing she became aware of was the pounding of her head. The next was sound. It was quiet, she could hear someone coming down the stairs. The footfalls were too heavy, too deliberate to be Lucian. Someone else, then? The only person she knew who did that was…

That explained why his scent lingered, she realized. Thancred’s scent was around her, mingling with the smells of her home, and she wondered why- when he had found this place. Perhaps it was last night- she couldn’t really remember anything, Sil’toh realized. She shoved her face into her pillow and groaned. _I only meant to have a few, not… Twelve have mercy, I hope I didn’t say anything…_

“You’re awake. That saves me some trouble,” Thancred chuckled. Her ear twitched- he was at the door, most likely. His voice was warm, affectionate, and not a little relieved. Admittedly, he _had_ come face-to-face with what happened when one woke her sooner than she’d like, once. Her ear twitched as he walked over, and she heard him sit down next to her. Sil’toh knew he was smiling. “If you’d stop hiding your face in the pillow, I _do_ have some water.”

Begrudgingly, she dragged herself up into a sitting position and was absolutely certain she looked terrible. But as expected, he was smiling, and something about it seemed to only grow fonder with the half-hearted glare she directed at him. The Miqo’te stared for a moment, looking from him to the offered cup and back before taking it and downing the entire thing. She heard him chuckle again and shot him an unamused look as she let the cup fall onto the futon. “You brought me to my house.”

“I did. You begrudgingly gave me directions last night after I revealed that I was aware you have one.” Thancred’s warm tone and smile didn’t falter, even faced with her cold reception to his presence. (She wanted to hug him, to thank him for this, for staying. She wanted to run in fear that she may have said something.)

“No one else was here?”  
“No. Should there have been?”  
“He must be out on a job,” Sil’toh mumbled to herself. As things had gotten busier, she had… admittedly grown more distant from her friend and housemate. “The idiot…”

Thancred gave a curious hum and quirked a brow. Her ear flicked and she looked away. (Did he even know what he was doing to her, with that expression? Her heart was fluttering in her chest and she was simply thankful she wasn’t blushing at this point.) Her tail swished idly behind her. “I have a roommate. You’ve met him once or twice, I think.”

“Ah, one of your friends, then,” he hummed, and she nodded in reply. Her face was half-hidden by her hair, and he wanted to push it out of the way. Run his fingers through it, perhaps, and see if she was among the number of Miqo’tes that purred. He refrained. “… You’re going to ask if you said anything last night.”

At least he knew that much. A cold comfort for Sil’toh, who only nodded. Thancred’s heavy sigh made her look back at him and she could immediately tell that _yes_, she most certainly said something last night. He looked conflicted, after all, like he wasn’t sure if he should tell her. “Than, what did I say?”

To her surprise, his response was a question- that also told her the answer. “Do you… have feelings for me?”

The silence was painfully uncomfortable all of a sudden. She wanted to run. To hide. To avoid this conversation because she wasn’t ready for this. Sil’toh shifted under his gaze, avoiding making eye contact. “I… yes.” And she _hated_ the way the silence dragged out. Thancred shifted in the edges of her vision.

“… I need a little time.”

“… Okay.”

—

Thancred felt like a fucking _idiot_. He should’ve expected this much, considering their shared line of work.

Damn Ascians. Damn primals. Damn Leviathan. He was pacing, he knew he was pacing, and the Scions were giving him _looks_.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

When Sil’toh finally came back- injured but ultimately alive with a wry grin, clothes soaked through and hair limply falling everywhere, torn out of its ponytail, he didn’t bother. Thancred ignored her friends, ignored the Scions, and immediately started _fussing_. He threw a towel over her head, almost laughing at her indignant sound of protest. “You’ll catch cold like this, considering how well you take care of yourself,” he gently chided.

Sil’toh huffed. She did, however, keep the towel around her neck until after the debriefing, at which point Thancred tugged her away. She needed _rest_ more than anything, he knew that much, because she was _constantly_ running herself ragged. Be it through her duties as a Scion or studying. (Twelve only knew exactly how much time she spent with her nose buried in a book, but half the times he’d encountered her she was reading. A lot of people thought the Warrior of Light wasn’t the smartest of people, but she was a far cry from that expectation- her knowledge was merely something more easily applied to the practical.) But before that, she needed to dry off. Thancred grumbled something about her being a fool and used the towel to start drying her hair, and she made a _number_ of indignant noises that caused amusement to swell within his chest.

“Than,” Sil’toh whispered after a lull, grabbing his wrist and looking up at him from under the fluffy fabric, hair falling into her eyes. His breath caught in his throat- she did not look the part of the warrior, not right now. She wasn’t a Scion, or one of Hydaelyn’s chosen, or a member of the Maelstrom. She wasn’t the bane of many primals, nor the woman who triumphed over the Black Wolf. She was just Sil’toh Sylphystia, the Sharlayan mercenary who didn’t talk about her past. A mercenary who didn’t always fit the job, because she never asked for a reward from the people who didn’t have the means to give one, even if that happened to be most of the people she assisted. The woman who’s loyalty ran as deep as her secrets, who had faith in the people she stood beside if nothing else.

(Thancred knew, then, that he loved her.)

On a whim, he closed the gap between them, little as it was, and kissed her. His hands cupped her cheeks, and her lips were soft, and it was only after a moment that she responded. It was sweet, and gentle, and reminded him that there was still more about the rough around the edges, brash woman that he still didn’t know. When they broke the kiss he pressed his forehead to hers, took a breath. He felt her hands cover his own, small and warm and calloused. “What does this make us, Sil?”

And when he opened his eyes she was smiling up at him at the use of her nickname, a soft expression that made his heart skip a beat. “Whatever you want us to be, Than.”

“Together, then.” He didn’t have to think about it. He wanted her by his side.

“I like the sound of that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emet-Selch did not want this. Or, better put, he didn't want to acknowledge that he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first time writing Emet, hope I didn't butcher him too bad  
takes place sometime during Rak'tika, before Fanow \o/ does still contain spoilers from the very end of ShB

He didn’t realize he was crying, at first. Emet-Selch had distanced himself from the Warrior and the Scions as they walked through Rak’tika, towards the settlement their friend was supposed to be part of. (Away from the quiet conversations she had with the Gunbreaker, the little looks that said everything and nothing all at once and reminded him of-)

When he left them, the last thing he expected was for Sil’toh to find the time to come track him down. Not unlike how he hadn’t expected to find himself crying- but everything about the Warrior of Light (Warrior of Darkness, he reminded himself) was both achingly familiar and irritatingly different. She was possibly the closest he had ever been to seeing _her_ again, even if the Miqo’te was merely a fragment, a shard. She had the same quiet patience, the same searching gaze. It hurt to see her talk with her friends, it hurt to interact with her as much as it filled him with nostalgic warmth.

Emet-Selch hated it. He hated it when he heard her footsteps behind him, hated the way he tensed because he _knew_ it was the Warrior. There was no one else it would be, with or without the blinding light almost entirely obscuring her soul, broken though it was. (Its hue remained the same underneath that primordial Light, so achingly familiar, almost breaking his heart.) He hated how he couldn’t stop the hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Emet?”  
  
He hated how she’d shortened his title into a nickname, into something affectionate and friendly and so painfully _her_ to say. (He loved hearing it, he loved the idea that she still wanted him in any capacity, that someone he loved so dearly still reached for him even sundered as she was.)

“… Emet, are you alright?”

He hated that she _cared_, even though he knew it was a part of her that would never change. (He loved how she worried, even for him, always.)

“… You shouldn’t be crying, you know.”

He hated that she could read him so easily at times. (He loved that she took the time to do it.)

“Come here, Emet.”  
  
He hated that he listened, turning around and looking into her silver eyes, seeing the concern and the worry swimming in them. He hated that he just _let_ her step forward and cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears. He hated the fact that it was something _she_ would’ve done, and he _wanted_ to hate this Warrior, this fragment, but he was left hating how he _could not_ hate Sil’toh Sylphystia, no matter how much he tried.

What he didn’t realize was that _she_ hated, too. She hated how she cared for a man that she knew was her enemy, she hated how she couldn’t stand to see him cry. Sil’toh hated how she couldn’t help but pull him close, pull him down and press his face into the crook of her neck. Hated that she ran her hand through his hair on an instinct she hadn’t know she had before that moment. But most of all, she hated that she didn’t know _why_.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Emet. Even the best of us have to let go sometimes,” she whispered. (No matter how she hated, what she hated, she couldn’t find it in herself to hate _him_. Ascian or not, he was acting just as vulnerable as she felt.) He trembled in her arms, she felt his hands curling into fists against her clothes. Sil’toh pressed her cheek against his head, ears pressing flat against her own. How many times had she been given the same lecture? How many times had she told Thancred the same thing? (How many times had he told her?) “Just let go. I think you know as well as I that I’m the _last_ person who’ll judge you over your tears.”

Emet-Selch hated that her soft-spoken words were all it took to turn the leak into a flood. What he wanted wasn’t even in the equation because he didn’t _want_ this, didn’t _want_ to be held like this and reminded of what he’d lost _again_. (Or maybe he did, maybe a part of him wanted that comfort, the comfort that came with the knowledge that he was _safe_ even at his weakest. The comfort that came with knowing that she wouldn’t tell, she’d never tell, because above all she wouldn’t betray anyone like that, even if they were her enemy.) He wished he didn’t start all but sobbing against her shoulder, wetting her clothing with his tears, even if she didn’t _care_.

“… You’re a good man. I know you are- I don’t know how, but I do. You’re just trying to do what you believe to be best, aren’t you?” And he cried harder. The voices died down, making way for her, her, only _her_\- “I don’t have to approve of what you’re doing to respect that. I’d have to be blind to see that you weren’t hurting, Emet. I know the face of someone who’s haunted by the dead and the past because I see it every damned time I look in the mirror… and that’s an expression I see on you when you don’t think I’m looking.”  
  
He wished he could pull himself together enough to at least say something. To tell her she should stop trying to read into things she couldn’t _possibly_ understand. (He could tell that she did, though, even without remembering. He refused to acknowledge it.) “The weight of a broken heart isn’t something to bear alone, Emet.”

Emet-Selch wished in that moment. Wished she called him by name, even if she didn’t _remember_. What he wouldn’t give to hear it again, and her voice was so, so much like _hers_. He’d never seen a fragment of her so similar as Sil’toh was, and at times it was nearly too much to bear. She would defend him in her own passive way, she’d smooth things over, calm the Gunbreaker (Thancred, his name was Thancred, he knew it was even if he didn’t _want_ to-) before he’d snap. Comfort the Oracle, patiently listen to the Exarch and her Elezen friend when they explained something, even if she didn’t quite understand. (She was Sharlayan, he remembered that much, and Sil’toh hungered for knowledge the same way she sought to help, just like _she_ had back in Amaurot. Helping people with their Concepts, offering ideas, someone to bounce things off of, more open-minded in some ways and calm but her passion burned _hot_, and the Warrior was much the same.)

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed, or when they’d sat down and leaned against one of the trees when Emet-Selch finally calmed. Neither of them said anything, either, and they didn’t move. Oh, eventually (if they stayed that long) they’d have a white-haired angry man yelling at them, that much they knew- but for the moment, he wanted to stay here. Because under the dirt and the sweat and the metallic tang of blood, the earthy smell that clung to her, it was there. Ozone and crisp, fresh winds, electric to his senses, a comfort to the ache. (_Her_ element aside, those were always there, and nothing had ever been able to change it.)Sil’toh was a fragment, yes, a mere shadow of what her soul had once been, but there was _so much_ of her that was the same.

Even the way she held him and carded her fingers through his hair, and he realized that some part of her soul recognized him even in its broken, incomplete state, even with Zodiark’s touch upon his. It almost made him laugh. It made him yearn to tell her, to beg her to remember him, remember _them_, but he couldn’t because he knew there was no point. He knew it’d hurt too much to bear. For the moment, he could settle for this, for letting her hold him and her letting him hold her in return. For the silent companionship, both fully aware that something wasn’t quite right but-

Sil’toh sniffled. Only then did Emet-Selch look up, some snarky comment dying on the tip of his tongue when he saw how she was biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut against the tears and her ears pressed flat against her hair. She didn’t seem to notice how her tail curled around his arm. It took him a moment to wipe his surprise away, reaching out for her soul with his own, skirting around her. Feeling her sorrow, deep-seated pain, and aching, ragged _loneliness_ that reminded him of the hole in his heart for a woman Zodiark had stolen the name of. (He knew that the only reason he didn’t rage was because he was tempered, but it was such a distant thing, he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. Emet-Selch was so, _so_ tired of caring.) It washed over him all at once, and a part of him, the small remainder of the man he’d been all that time ago, screamed in protest that she _shouldn’t be feeling like that, she had so many people- Y’shtola, Urianger, Minfilia, Alphinaud, Alisaie, the Crystal Exarch and Thancred to help her-_

“Hero? What’s this, now? Don’t tell me you’re that worried over _me_,” Emet-Selch said quietly, and he hated that his concern bled into his voice. He wasn’t even sure why he cupped her cheek, but he could feel the Light within her _rage_ against the brush of his soul, against his touch. He could feel her shove it down, iron will rearing its head once more. She knew it could hurt him, and he could feel that she _didn’t want to_. Emet-Selch couldn’t wrap his head around it, around the fact that she cared so for someone who was her enemy. (But wasn’t he doing the same? Wasn’t at least a part of him screaming that he should help her, simply because he _could_?) “Or perhaps… ah, so that’s it. You’re _scared_, are you not, Warrior?”

Sil’toh reached up and gripped his hand with one of her own, leaning into his touch even though she didn’t know _why_. She could feel the cool touch of his aether brushing past her own, and as much as she wanted to reach out to it she feared that doing so could cause the primordial Light within or her _Blessing_ to lash out at him. As much as she knew Thancred would love to see it happen, she couldn’t find it in herself to risk it. And when he called her out on her fear, she knew he could tell he was right. He could read her better than Hien or even Thancred when he took the time, and the way her breath hitched and her hands shook surely gave it away. “O-of course I am, Emet,” Sil’toh whispered, and she hated how her voice trembled. The way it broke. “They’re all _counting_ on me. I-if I fail in any way…”

She opened her eyes to see his expression almost impassive. Almost, save for the ghost of a frown, the subtlest pinch of his brow, the faintest hint of worry, and she could see the concern in his eyes. They were still red and puffy from crying, and it was just another reminder for her that even the _strongest_ people couldn’t be that forever. “T-Thancred’s always telling me I don’t have to do this alone, but he’s changed, a-and he has Minfilia to worry about- I- I can’t…”

  
“Hero,” he said, cutting her off. “I somehow doubt he’d care. In fact, I believe he’d be _upset_ you didn’t come to him.” (Emet-Selch had little room to talk, with how often he had refused to talk about his struggles until he’d been cornered.) He could feel her trepidation, the way she yearned for comfort. As much as he wished he could be the one to provide it- he wouldn’t let this change his course. He _couldn’t_. This wasn’t _her_, only a broken fragment, no matter how similar they were. He should send her back to her friends, back to that accursed Gunbreaker. (He knew Thancred would hold her close until she stopped shaking, until she was ready to talk to him, and then he’d sit and listen and he’d let her stay tucked against his side. He’d be her support until she was ready to be the unmoving pillar again. He knew because that’s what you do for the people you love and he knew that five years had done nothing but make the Hyur’s affection stronger, even if he was now uncertain how to approach her.)

“… Emet?”  
“Yes, Warrior?”  
“… We’re both complete messes, aren’t we?”

His heart twisted in his chest at the watery smile she gave him, a ghost of a memory flitting through his mind of a similar smile. (She’d told him to leave her behind, and she’d _smiled_ when Elidibus and Lahabrea pulled him away no matter how he fought against them. He could remember vividly how she’d told him that it was going to be okay as they did, and he knew that smile had been for them, too. A final thank-you to them, even with how everything had gone, in the end. That had been the last time he’d seen her alive, the last time he’d seen her before she was sundered, and how he _wished_ he could change that moment. To save her there and hopefully prevent _all_ of this.) “Oh come now, I wouldn’t say _that_. Just because you are powerful, hero, hardly means you cannot have moments of weakness. Is that not the very same point _you_ made to _me_?”

She looked off to the side, and her tail released his arm from its grip, the tip idly flicking back and forth. He shifted so that she was more tucked against his side than he against hers, resting his now freed hand on the side of her head, giving in to the urge to rub at the base of her ears. Sil’toh’s expression twisted in conflict for a moment (because a part of her still screamed that he was her enemy, he could tell) before she gave in, and he was almost surprised at how heavily she leaned into his hand. But then again, he’d heard of things like this before, and it was admittedly heartwarming to hear her begin to purr, to see her all but melt under his touch. (This was something he never would’ve experienced back then, that much he knew. It was actually rather adorable.) “Hm. So the rumors were true,” he mumbled.

Sil’toh wanted to sass him for that comment once the words registered, but she couldn’t through the haze. She hardly registered being pulled against his chest, and she really wasn’t sure when she fell asleep. Only that she must’ve desperately needed it, considering when she woke, something in her said it was night, that an awful lot of time had passed. The eternal light truly was disorienting. (Nor did it help her insomniac tendencies- she recalled several times already where Thancred or the Exarch had all but forced her to get some sleep.) She looked up, ears flicking, and took a moment to register that Emet-Selch was seemingly taking a nap of his own- the keyword being _seemingly_.

“Any particular reason you’re staring, _hero_?”

“Any particular reason you willingly turned yourself into a pillow for a woman who’s supposed to be your enemy?”  
  
He stared at her for a moment, only one eye opened, and again a part of her ached. She knew those eyes, but she didn’t know _why _and by the Warden did she _hate it_.

“By your Twelve, you truly are something else, aren’t you? No wonder that boy doesn’t want you to do the talking,” he hummed. His voice was warmer than usual, and it sent shivers down her spine.

“You try spending half your formative years completely alone, see what that does for your social skills,” she huffed. He ‘hmph’d in reply, and they spent a moment longer in companionable silence before she spoke again. “How long has it been?”  
“Oh, several bells at the least. Worried your friends have put themselves in danger, hero?”  
“Not particularly, no. Than would’ve tracked me down already were that the case, and if not him then ‘Shtola. But either way, I ought to head back to Slitherbough before Than _does_ find us. I’m a little too tired to deal with his hostility.”

Emet-Selch said nothing in response to that, only watching as she got up and stretched, tail lazily swishing back and forth behind her. He expected her to walk away without another word- hence his surprise when she looked back over her shoulder at him and said, “Thank you, Emet.”

Then she left him there, alone, and he could still smell ozone.

_“All’s fair in love and war, Hades.”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sil'toh doubted her fortunes. Hien doubted his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im big self-indulgent but I see Hien as. struggling a little at first with this kind of t h i n g. so slight angst. veerrry slight  
also because I don't actually know WHAT Thancred was doing through most of SB, I decided having a conversation via LS was valid. shoot me.
> 
> takes place from the beginning of the steppe when you first meet the himbo to the morning of the raid on Doma Castle. beware spoilers.

Hien Rijin was warm. That was among Sil’toh’s first observations. He had an air about him, welcoming, that made her more relaxed than she’d been since leaving Eorzea. (From here, it was far more difficult to keep tabs on Thancred. She’d already lost him twice- Sil’toh did not want to suffer such a third time.) Frankly, she hardly would’ve been surprised if he was warm to the touch as well- warmer than her beloved rogue, anyhow.

She liked it. Hien was a simple man- and ‘simple’ was something she had too little of in her life. ‘Simple’ was something she found precious. Perhaps he’d noticed how she watched more than spoke. Perhaps not. She knew full well Hien had noticed that when she _did_ speak, she was harsh. Well- not harsh, but it often seemed to come off that way to others, she’d noticed. In truth, she simply didn’t care for a filter. Sil’toh valued honesty, so even her lies were laced with truth.

This had been tested time and time again.

With Hien, however, it was different. She loved Thancred, she did- and she still felt strongly for G’raha, even if she’d never see him again. And as it was, she already had a home because of it- but Hien was like a different kind, and she liked it. She liked _him_. In spite of his station (or perhaps because of it, but that was hardly a debate she wished to humor) he was goofy, funny.

It was after Bardam’s Mettle, after they were all but kidnapped, that Sil’toh decided to humor herself. Before they were separated, Magnai and other observers be damned, she stepped up to him, leaned up, and watched as a pink flush dusted his cheeks at the close proximity. She gave a hum and a smile and licked the tip of his nose, much to the bewilderment of everyone present (almost everyone, Lyse burst into a fit of snickering) and promptly returned to acting like absolutely nothing happened. Hien was not so fortunate, trying to process it with pink cheeks even as he was led away. (Lyse was absolutely still snickering, full aware of what was going on.)

Gosetsu didn’t bring it up until they were observing the Dotharl from afar.

“Was there a meaning behind your earlier gesture, my friend?” Sil’toh glanced over at him from her crouched position, tail swaying idly behind her, and gave a mysterious smile when she saw he was doing much the same and watching her from the corner of his eye. Her only reply was a smile.

—

Sil’toh rolled onto her stomach, huffing, her tail swaying from one side to the other. “Thancred, he’s _hot_ but he’s so _oblivious_,” she complained. The huff of laughter over her linkpearl made her pout. “Whaat?”

_“Oh, nothing in particular. I just recall you making a few similar complaints about Raha,” _he teased. She would’ve hit him were he not _on the other side of the star_. Truly, he angered her at times. _“But, dearest, you _could _just tell him.”_

“Just tell him. Just- Than, do you not remember what it took for _us_ to get together?”

_“Yes, I quite vividly recall you getting _drunk _before you actually admitted your feelings.”_

“It took a _primal_,” Sil’toh deadpanned. Thancred laughed, a real laugh that warmed her heart. (He didn’t laugh enough anymore, she’d decided.)

_“Sil’toh,” _Thancred began, and she hummed curiously in reply. _“I’m certain you’ve nothing to fear. Just say something.”_

“… Fine.”

_“Good. Now, get some sleep- I _know _it’s late there,” _he chided, gently, and she could _hear_ the small smile in his tone.

“I’ll try.”

_“I guess I’ll take what I can get. Rest well, my love.”_

She did.

—

“Sil’toh, _really_. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you!”

“Lyse, _please_, there’s no way I’m that lucky,” Sil’toh huffed. Lyse smiled and tilted her head.

“I can’t say it’s _luck_, but I _can_ say that he sneaks looks at you when he thinks no one’s looking. It’s actually kind of cute. Thancred used to do it- he still _does_!”

Sil’toh huffed and sat down in the sand, watching the waves come in. They were out on a walk next to the Ruby Sea, Lyse having made up some excuse to drag her down here for this talk. “Yeah but that’s _Thancred_. Hien’s a whole other matter!”

“He asked me why you licked his nose, you know. While you were investigating the Dotharl.”

“Twelve have mercy,” Sil’toh groaned. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I said he should ask you if he really wanted to know.”

“Wait, really?”

Lyse sat down next to her and grinned. “Of course. Thancred approves of him, doesn’t he?” Sil’toh avoided looking at her, which was answer enough. “Then I don’t know why you don’t say something.”

“Not everyone’ll be as comfortable with the whole thing as Raha was…”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try, Sil’toh.”

She huffed. “I’ll… take it under advisement.”

—

It wasn’t until the night before Doma Castle that Sil’toh decided to heed Thancred’s (and Lyse’s) advice. Gosetsu and Yugiri retired before her or Hien, to her luck, and they sat in companionable silence for a time. She realized he kept glancing at her the same way she did at him, and it sent a bit of hope through her. She got up, got closer. Hien looked up at her, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted and a question in his eyes. He was drunk, she was tipsy. Her thoughts were in less order than usual, and her rationale wasn’t entirely there. “Hien.”

“Sil’toh.”

And the warmth of his voice sent a shiver through her, making her breath catch in her throat. Hien may have been oblivious (or, at the least, he was damn good at pretending to be) but she still loved how he said her name. It made her feel warm, welcome. A dozen other things, really, but seven hells it was pleasant and she’d never been one to try and figure out her emotions.

“Ah, to hells with it,” she breathed. The Miqo’te leaned down, cupped his cheek with one hand, and kissed him. She could taste the sake on his lips and knew he could taste it (and the whiskey she carried) on her own. A moment passed, two, with no response- long enough to make her worry. But then he _did_ respond, reaching up, a hand on the back of her head and the other pulling her closer, down, until she was on his lap. Sil’toh wasn’t sure if it was just the alcohol, but Hien Rijin was a _damn_ good kisser and she was pretty sure she could get drunk on it alone. She hadn’t known what to expect from kissing him, but this wasn’t it, it was _so much better_.

Hien wasn’t just warm, or welcoming, or fun, Sil’toh realized. He was _intoxicating_.

She found that she _loved_ it.

Hien’s face was flushed when they parted, a pretty pink that sent a thrill through her knowing it was because of _her._ They were breathless, barely even an ilm apart, and seeing his eyes so close made them much more intense. A moment of silence passed before he spoke. “I was… under the impression you already had someone.”

“He’s a little possessive, but open. If he approves of them, anyways- works both ways,” she mumbled, not entirely certain how he would react. “He likes what he’s heard about you, but if you two ever meet, he’ll probably give you a ‘full assessment’- don’t ask me what that entails. I’ve no clue.”

“… I see.”

Sil’toh looked off to the side, and Hien could see the uncertainty on her face. He bit his lip. This was hardly what he’d ever imagined, he never expected this- _storm_ of a woman to notice him like that. But then, there was…

  
“I- we don’t have to, uh. If you’re uncomfortable with that…” Sil’toh abruptly began, gesturing half-heartedly with her hands, leaning back a bit. Hien had never seen her so… uncertain. She was always sure, confident, knowing exactly what to do. (Or mayhap she didn’t. He was realizing, now, that there was still plenty he didn’t know about her. He knew she was Sil’toh Sylphystia, Warrior of Light. But how much of what he’d seen was the Warrior, and how much was _Sil’toh_? Hien wasn’t sure.) “… Sorry. I’m, uh… prone to not considering… everything, sometimes…”

He decided to shut her up before she said anything else with another searing kiss. Hien wasn’t… entirely comfortable with sharing her, no, but he knew he couldn’t ask her to choose. That wasn’t his place- he couldn’t keep her to himself, he couldn’t ask that of her. He’d known from the moment he’d first met her that she was a wild thing, that no one would be able to control her, claim her, not if she didn’t _let_ them. Hien felt privileged just to have _this_, knowing how she was.

He felt privileged to feel her melting against him, nails biting into his shoulder and curling into his clothing. He felt thrilled, when she _moaned_ against his lips, to know that he was the one who did that. Yes- it was one of the very things he found most attractive about her that meant he could not ask her to be his and his alone.

Hien would hold on as long as she allowed.

—

Sil’toh woke slowly the next morning. She was warm and comfortable- it took her a moment to register the smell as _Hien’s_, and several moments longer to remember what happened last night. The flick of her ear must’ve alerted him that she was awake, because he hummed softly and nuzzled the back of her neck. “I pray your head fares better than mine. I’m afraid I only recall parts of last night.”

“… mhn, ‘re they th’importan’ ones?”

“Aye,” he chuckled. Her tail flicked idly and curled around his leg- they were both mostly clothed, having only shed the most uncomfortable of their attire. (Which, admittedly, left Hien shirtless. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, but Twelve have mercy, he was so well-built and she just wanted to run her hands over his skin and feel the muscles beneath.)

He was content to lay there a moment longer, just holding her, legs tangled together and an arm around her torso. Hien felt her low purr before he heard it and his heart skipped a beat. Sil’toh shifted, turned to look at him with this soft look on her face. _Contentment_, he realized. She kissed the tip of his nose before wiggling away, tail flicking behind her.

He wondered if the other man- the one Hien knew for a fact she loved- also felt this warmth in his chest when she looked at him like that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hien meets Thancred. They have a talk. It does not end how Hien expected. (Admittedly, he expected to be thrown off a cliff, so that doesn't say much.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop okay at this point I might as well just dub this a mini-series of one shots called 'the adventures of himbo' in this thing.  
behold, Hien finds out that he's Not So Doomed

It wasn’t until after their victory in Ala Mhigo that Hien met him. The man Sil’toh loved- someone who’d she’d known since before people started calling her a hero or the Warrior of Light. Thancred Waters.

Suffice it to say, he was more nervous than he expected to be. There was a long history between the two, and when he saw them together for the first time, he realized just how deeply their feelings ran for each other. And Hien really just couldn’t compare _that_ to what he had with Sil’toh.

He’d wanted to leave before anyone could stop him. Sil’toh, evidently, didn’t share the sentiment. She grabbed him by the wrist before he could go, and Hien was left with no choice but to turn and face her. The way she _smiled_, so warm and happy, made his heart twist in his chest. Made warmth bloom in his stomach. (He didn’t know why, but he felt guilty.) She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, and Hien had to confess- he, too, had been worried about her fighting Zenos on her own. But she’d come out okay, alive, if a little banged up. Most of her hurts had been healed. He hugged her back, shooting a brief glance Thancred’s way, surprised to find him smiling softly at the sight of them. (Suddenly, Hien realized it was incredibly similar to the soft expression Sil’toh had looked at him with before she left Doma.)

“Thank you.”

She knew he wasn’t alright when he didn’t reply and instead just held her tighter. Sil’toh suspected it was more than just nerves regarding Thancred’s presence. She didn’t want him to feel so- out of place. Not with her.

There was only one solution.

—

Thancred knew why Sil’toh roped Hien into this. He knew, and he fully intended to give the Doman a chance. (He wondered, for a moment, if Hien knew about G’raha- and then decided that he probably did not.) That was why he’d dragged Hien to a secluded cliff overlooking the Lochs. Hien was attractive- distractingly so- he had to admit.

Hien shifted under his gaze and it belatedly occurred to him that staring at him for fifteen minutes probably wasn’t the best start. Thancred cleared his throat and looked off towards Ala Mhigo, trying to get his thoughts in order, find the words to start.

Hien definitely, absolutely suspected Thancred brought him up here to throw him off the cliff, potential repercussions be damned. That’s why he jumped when the rogue cleared his throat, felt the tension thrumming through his whole body even when the older looked off towards Ala Mhigo. (It was beautiful, there in the distance, bathed in the light of the setting sun.) “… I didn’t bring you here to kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Thancred said suddenly, and Hien flinched a little.“I wanted to talk. About you, and Sil’toh. And me.”

“… I suppose that _would_ be preferable to being thrown over the cliff,” Hien said after a moment. Thancred inhaled, looking back at him, before chuckling softly- much to his confusion.

“Sil would have my head were I to do that,” he explained, his visible eye crinkling around the corner, a smile on his face. Hien did a double take at the nickname, taking a moment to connect it to the Miqo’te in question. He decided it suited her. “She… is not wont to do something like this on a whim.”

“… Pardon?”

“You… this isn’t the first time.”

Hien did a double take, processing the implications of Thancred’s words. Thancred, for his part, realized he could’ve worded that better- but there was no taking it back now, he supposed, so all there was to do was elaborate before Hien got the wrong idea. He sighed. “His name was G’raha Tia.”

Hien blinked. Once, twice- and then he caught up with the word choice. “_Was_?” Thancred nodded, and something in his expression was pained for a moment.

“He was a Miqo’te, too. Confident, smart, beautiful- not weak, either. He was an archer of some skill,” he said fondly. Hien felt his heart wrench- something told him he would not like the end of this tale. “Sil’toh came to me, and she told me about him, and she complained, you know. Like she did with you. All compliments, I assure you.”

“… What happened to him?”

Thancred sat down and motioned for Hien to join him. After a moment of hesitation, he complied. “One thing at a time, Hien.” A shiver ran up his spine from how the rogue said his name. Hien wasn’t sure why. “She introduced us- he’d been looking for a few books she happened to have, and had me go and get them since I wasn’t really doing anything at the time. I expected a Miqo’te, but hardly one nearly as eccentric as her,” he chuckled. “But I began to see what she meant. He was a little nervous about me, too, at first.

“You know how Sil’s eyes light up when she starts talking about something she’s passionate about?” He asked, and Hien smiled.

“She starts going on and on and gesturing with her hands, like that will make it make more sense, but she jumps around because she absolutely _cannot_ keep her thoughts in order.”

Thancred smiled warmly and nodded. “Raha did that, too. He’d get this grin and just go on and on, and sometimes they’d start discussing or debating without clueing any of us in. It was endearing, frustrating, and absolutely-“

“Adorable?” Hien offered, cutting him off. He could imagine it, even without knowing what G’raha looked like. Thancred looked at him in surprise before smiling in a way that had Hien’s heart skipping a beat.

“Exactly. You know how Sil expresses so much through her ears and tail? Raha was like that, but twice as bad,” he explained. Something clicked for Hien, seeing his expression.

“You loved him.”

Thancred was taken aback for a moment before he sighed. “I still do.”

“... And Sil’toh?”

“Doesn’t want to admit it to herself. They were investigating the Crystal Tower together, and things went... well. In the end, Raha used his Royal Allagan blood to seal the tower with himself inside it, slumbering within until such a time as it could be opened again. She was devastated.”

Ah. Hien had been right- he _didn’t_ like the end of the story. “… And what does this have to do with me?”

Thancred sighed heavily. Yes, he had been getting to that, hadn’t he?… “You’re… the first. Since then, I mean. Sil’toh isn’t… She wants to be with you, Hien. Really be with you. In case you hadn’t noticed, she’s not a woman that takes half-measures.”

Hien blinked. Once, twice, and looked out at the horizon. That was... both a relief and terrifying. He wanted that, too, but Sil’toh was in danger so often, and then Thancred... “And you? What is it that you want?”

He watched the rogue out of the corner of his eye as he closed his visible eye with a sigh. “That’s... a long list. I want her to be happy, and you make her happy.”

“And?” Hien prompted, because he knew. He knew that wasn’t all.

“... and I must confess, I do want _you_.”

That was _not_ the response Hien expected, but he kept his expression schooled into careful neutrality, giving away nothing of the storm of emotions that’d kicked up inside as he looked over, finding his gaze meeting Thancred’s own. He looked- and sounded- completely serious.

When Thancred leaned forward, closer, and Hien found himself closing the gap, he realized that maybe it wasn’t about history at all. Maybe it wasn’t about anything special- maybe they just wanted _him_.

—

Thancred was really, _really_ good in bed. Admittedly, they were on a cliff and that was an incredibly brief, hurried coupling, but it was still_ very _enjoyable. “Well… I… must confess, I wouldn’t mind doing that again,” Hien began before cracking a lopsided grin and looking at his newfound lover. “Though preferably _not_ on a cliff, lovely as the view may be.”

Thancred snorted in amusement, running one hand through his mussed hair and propping himself up, leaning over to kiss Hien again. He could still taste himself and it sent a shiver down his spine to recall what just occurred. “Sil’toh is _absolutely_ going to know,” the rogue chuckled when they parted. Hien raised a brow.   
  
“She’s going to know I moved faster with you than with her?”

“I take it back, she’s going to jump us the moment she sees us.”

“That doesn’t particularly sound like a complaint.”

“That _might_ be because it’s far from a complaint. In fact, I’d rather _enjoy_ seeing her jump you.”

Hien laughed, and by the _Twelve_, it was something beautiful. Thancred could _definitely _see what Sil’toh did- Hien was a simple man, so much more than they were, and that was something they both needed. Something simple. They found homes in each other, yes- but they were almost constantly on the move. That was no way to live. (Sil’toh wanted somewhere, a place, to call home. That much he’d known for some time. If they were lucky, that place could be Doma- Hien.)

Thancred finally stood, tying his hair back into a loose excuse of a ponytail, and offered Hien a hand. He gladly accepted, letting the rogue pull him to his feet and chuckle at his hair as he tied it back just as loosely. But the Doman could say _one_ thing- he cupped Thancred’s cheek and ran a thumb under his eye- the one usually hidden by his bandana. “She doesn’t like that you hide it.”

“I know.”

Hien smiled softly and they made their way back to Ala Mhigo, guided by the light of the moon, hand in hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are, perhaps, more aware of their situation than others give them credit for.  
... Of course, that doesn't mean they particularly care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as with all things I write, this absolutely got away from me. in only the best of ways, I assure you. have some fluff, why is there so much fluff in this damn thing, what the hell is happening. might edit this later, in theory.  
set during the CT questline, after the labyrinth.

G’raha Tia had an air about him. One Sil’toh very much enjoyed- he was confident, a little bit cocky and immature, perhaps, but _smart_. She liked smart people. (Thancred was proof enough, even if he wasn’t smart in the same ways that G’raha was.) Sil’toh had found his little ‘test’ quite amusing, though she gave him a hard glare, arms crossed. Cid let out a nervous chuckle at her expression.

G’raha didn’t stop smirking at her. Her eyes narrowed, frown turning into a smirk of her own. “Sil’toh Sylphystia. A pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

Sil’toh was quite confident this man was going to be both trouble _and_ addicting. (Besides, with a voice like his, she absolutely wanted to find out if he could sing.)

—

She was right on both accounts. G’raha had all but dragged her back into the Labyrinth to examine something or other, and she was available, capable, and not exactly stupid.

Really, G’raha couldn’t be happier to learn that the Warrior of Light herself was Sharlayan, a bookworm, and had studied Allag. (Even if it wasn’t nearly as much as he had, but he would take it. Their lively debates left everyone staring, after all, and he was rather certain she found it as amusing as he did.) Not to mention she was attractive, honest, _incredibly_ strong, independent… really, he could go on for days about all the things he’d found that he liked about her.

Suffice it to say, he was absolutely elated she let him drag her along. They were only a year apart in age, and though he was aware she already had someone… he’d hardly deny what he’d seen. Which was her giving him looks, and smirking when she caught him looking at her.

“What _exactly_ are you dragging me off to see, pray tell?”

“What do you _think_?”

Sil’toh huffed a laugh and he looked back at her with a grin. She wasn’t wearing her usual equipment- today, she’d left her bow in favor of a book, and she looked both smarter and more comfortable than usual. On a whim, he offered her a hand. “Care to dance?”

She blinked at him in surprise, ear flicking. Sil’toh hadn’t expected that, but he was smirking, eyes glittering with mirth, his tail curling. G’raha Tia was _nothing_ if not confident, and far be it from her to disappoint. Sil’toh took his offered hand, let him pull her close and wrap an arm around her waist. “Think you can keep up, G’raha?”

“Can I? I most certainly _can_.”

He made good on that promise.

—

Sil’toh may not take the best care of _herself_, but let no one say she didn’t take care of those she cared for. “G’raha?”

The Miqo’te in question hummed, nose buried in a book. He was in his tent, surrounded by them, several papers scattered on the desk before him. The candle was beginning to burn low- and considering how many habits they shared, Sil’toh doubted he realized how long it’d been. She leaned over behind him, his ear twitching from her breathing so close, and raised a brow. “How long have you been on that page?”

“Uh,” he said smartly, finally looking up at her. His eyes were somewhat unfocused, and she could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. (Admittedly, she wouldn’t have either, instead she would’ve been pouring through her own books on Allag, had it not been for Thancred and Lucian.) She gave a small smile and her tail lazily moved back and forth behind her as she picked up the bookmark, carefully took the book from him, and smoothly bookmarked and closed the book with one hand. Sil’toh had _plenty_ of practice.

“Here. Eat,” she hummed, holding out a bag, his ear flicked idly as he looked between it and her a few times before taking it, raising a brow at what was inside and looking at her skeptically. “Oh quit it, I get enough shite about it from Thancred. It’s better than nothing, and I’m not really good at cooking unless it’s over a fire.”

G’raha gave a warm chuckle and stood, stretching. She snickered as his back popped in several places. “You are _truly_ something else.”

“I do try. Come on- I know a nice place to get away from all this,” she hummed. He raised a brow, but complied, allowing her to lead him out of camp and to a nice quiet place. The glow of the crystals and the light from the moon were the only things illuminating them now, and he was admittedly surprised to find that it’d been so long.

They settled down on a rock, and G’raha looked over at her, ears flicking idly as he thought. In this lighting… Sil’toh was beautiful. Paler light suited her- the moon, the light blue glow of the crystals. It brought out her eyes, made her skin all but glow. He blinked when she reached up and let her hair down, now freed it was like waves of navy blue tumbling down, framing her face and cascading over her back, fading to a dark green at the ends. She looked over at him, a question in her eyes, and he blinked. G’raha felt his cheeks begin to heat up and looked back at the bag, pulling out one of the cookies.

He hadn’t expected them to be _this_ good. Oh no. He heard Sil’toh giggle and his heart skipped a beat- he’d never heard her giggle before. Glancing over he found her smiling in a way he’d never seen from her before, and it startled him a little. Her tail curled in amusement as she looked at him. “I know. It’s good, isn’t it?”

Her voice was softer than usual, quiet, and he blinked. “Well. Aren’t you acting… different.”

She only smiled and pressed a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ motion. G’raha couldn’t help but humor her. He could wait for answers. (He did not expect how getting them would go.)

—

G’raha was laying idly in his cot, reading a book, when Sil’toh sat down next to him. He knew it was her because he could smell ozone, the crisp, dry air of Thanalan, old books and ink, and Thancred’s smell yet clung to her. (She’d told G’raha about him that night, surrounded by crystals and with only the stars to bear witness. It was one thing to hear the tales of the Warrior of Light as told by others, but to hear her talk about Thancred, about her adventures with him, firsthand was something else entirely. She had confessed to him that she’d talked to Thancred about him several times, now, and it’d taken him by surprise. But then he’d grinned and teased her and everything had gone back to normal. Or as normal as it could with him wondering what it meant.) He smiled and set down his book on his chest. “Fancy seeing you here, Sil’toh. Is there a reason you’re hovering over me?”

“What, you want me to leave?”

“Not particularly,” he said with a grin, and she grinned back. “So, what brings you here?”

“Came to see you.”

G’raha raised a brow in surprise, his tail betraying him as it lazily thumped against the bed in a display of his happiness. She placed a hand over one of his, and this time, it felt different. (They’d held hands before, but it was always platonic. Now, though, it felt… intimate, with how she was looking at him.) He felt his cheeks heating a bit. “And why is that?”

She gave him a smile and leaned down, her hair falling around their faces and hiding them from outside view. (Not that there was any to speak of- they were alone.) “Maybe I just missed you,” she hummed. G’raha desperately reached for his fleeing wits and restraint. Now would be a terrible time to loose either of them. “Would that be a problem?”

He cleared his throat. “No, I rather like the idea, actually,” he said softly, thankful he didn’t stutter or anything else. Sil’toh’s eyes glittered with mirth and he felt her tail twine with his own. G’raha belatedly realized his heart felt fit to burst out of his chest, pounding against his ribcage loud enough that he imagined she could fair _hear_ it, close as she was. Her scent, and Thancred’s lingering one, were both in sharp clarity, making it that much harder to think, overwhelming and intoxicating and _addicting_. Now he _really_ wanted to meet the man.

Her nose brushed against his, the contact sending a jolt through his system like a shock, and he swallowed thickly. Before she could actually reply, he brought his free hand up, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her down into a kiss. (He’d wanted to do this for moons, now, and actually being able to was nothing short of _electric_ to his senses.) She sighed softly against his lips and he smiled, setting his book to the side to be forgotten, and flipping her onto the cot with him hovering over _her_ for a change while he still had the chance. She blinked up at him in evident surprise.

He was smirking, the cheeky little shite. She loved it as much as she wanted to kiss it off his stupid face. Sil’toh wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, laughter coming forth unbidden. He wrapped his arms around her, chin on her shoulder. She felt his laughter more than she heard it, rumbling through his chest and shaking his shoulders.

_I could get used to this._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk is necessary. However, Sil'toh and Thancred consistently fail to properly express their feelings with words, so it's more of a "talk" than an actual talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *claps hands together* I have slowly written this 4.6k word beast of a chapter I never expected to get this long. but it is this long! It does get VERY suggestive at one point, borderline NSFW, so be warned. basically this chapter is a solid "oops, my hand slipped"   
takes place post 5.0 but pre-Eden
> 
> feat. Lyna the wingman! she got fed up with these three dumbasses (but she doesn't know about dumbass no. 4 back at home with the kid)

“He looks at the the two of you like you hung the stars in the sky. Which, I suppose, is more literal considering what you both have done, but I believe you understand what I mean.”

Sil’toh and Thancred glanced at each other, and then back at Lyna. “And?...”

“You two need to stop avoiding him. The Exarch won’t stop thinking he did something wrong.”

Sil’toh bit back the urge to mention that, in a way, he _had_ done something wrong, no matter his reasons. And lies and half-truths aside, as much as she and Thancred still loved him, they had Hien. And beyond that...

They’d almost lost him again. (She very intentionally didn’t think about _why_.)

“Lyna,” Thancred began, sighing heavily as he struggled to find the words to express their dilemma, “it’s not... he lied to us, yes, but we forgave him for that much already.”

Sil’toh took one of his hands in her own and intertwined their fingers, thumb running over his knuckles idly through his glove. “We need time. Once we... figure things out, we’ll talk to him. I promise you that.”

Thancred was thankful for Sil’toh’s interjection- though Lyna still seemed concerned, she nodded in acceptance. It would do for now.

Once she was out of earshot, he gave a heavy sigh. “You need to talk to Hien when you go back.”

“I will.”

—

“Hien,” Sil’toh breathed, and Hien’s face broke out into a wide grin as soon as he saw her. He scooped her up into a hug, heard her chuckle softly as she humored him and returned the embrace in spite of her feet no longer touching the ground. Once he set her back down she looked up at him with a smile. “I can’t stay long- mostly here to talk, for both me and Thancred. I...”

Hien frowned, but he waited for her to find the words, quietly leading her to his room. Her tail swayed back and forth, ears angled down as she thought. He waited patiently. Quietly, just pulling her close and tracing idle, aimless patterns over her back, through her new top. (He had to say he rather liked the outfit. It was quite nice, actually.) “Sil’toh?” Hien prompted, when the silence had drawn out for several minutes.

“It’s Raha,” she finally murmured, and he felt himself freeze a little, tense up. “He... he was the one who summoned us to the First. To prevent a Calamity- to save us- me and Thancred...”

Hien remained quiet throughout her tale, eventually sitting down with her and allowing her to curl on his lap as she spoke while he pulled her hair down and combed through it with his fingers. He was well aware that a great many of these things would not be revealed to the Eorzean Alliance- especially the parts regarding her _emotional_ struggles.

He remembered how Thancred had struggled with the idea of becoming a father back when they had adopted Naoki. How he’d feared he would be- inadequate. Hien recalled how Sil’toh had knelt down next to him when he finally broke down, took his face in her hands, and she had _promised_ him that she wouldn’t allow him to be the father he feared he’d be. (Thancred had been so _relieved_ by the declaration, like a reminder that he wouldn’t have to figure it out on his own- they were there with him to help him should he loose his way.)

Suffice it to say, Hien could understand why she had been so completely, utterly frustrated and angry and _torn_ because of that promise. Because she could see clear as day that Thancred was hurting and- hells, hearing about it made him feel the same conflict. Thancred had been without them for _five years_, but that was no more an excuse for his treatment of the young girl in his care than his personal conflict regarding her. And Sil’toh had been able to see him hurting, and hearing about it made Hien want to comfort Thancred as much as it made him want to _hit_ the roguish bastard.

How relieved he was to learn Ryne was- well, Ryne, now, and Thancred had gotten his act together. (He was _far_ from relieved to learn that Thancred had nearly gotten himself _killed_ that same day- no more thrilled about it than Sil’toh had been, certainly.) Hien listened when her voice started to break, he listened to her talk about her struggle with the Light, how she had feared letting them all down and becoming a Lightwarden-

How she nearly _had_ become one. How G’raha had been willing to end his own life for hers.

Hien’s arms tightened around her unbidden.

Emet-Selch shooting G’raha.

Amaurot. Hythlodaeus. Ardbert. Killing Emet-Selch- _Hades._

_“Remember... remember us. Remember... that we once lived.”_

Sil’toh told him everything, and Hien let her cry for the man that had been her enemy, for the other men she loved. Let her cry for all the people she couldn’t save. He let her cry simply _because_, let her cry because there was a deep-seated grief she couldn’t understand. He let her cry because she desperately needed to, needed to let go of who she was to the rest of the world, even if for just a little while.

Sil’toh wondered how she’d gotten so lucky. To have him be here like this, just holding her, was worth more than he knew.

After a little while, he hummed softly and kissed the top of her head. “You got sidetracked.”

“I did,” she whispered with a watery smile and a soft huff of laughter. “We don’t know what to do, Hien.”

“You two still love him. He has loved you both for... so long. Been without either of you for longer than I want to think about,” he hummed. “You and Thancred deserve to be happy, Sil’toh. I won’t begrudge either of you for finding such with another.”

She looked up at him, frowning. Sil’toh knew Hien had, at first, been uncertain of his place within their triad- but G’raha... was another complication entirely. (Hien was not his replacement- nor would he be pushed aside simply because the Seeker had returned. She merely needed to figure out how to impress that fact upon him.)

“We still want _you_,” she whispered. “We need to know if you’re okay with this, Hien. Preferably _before_ Lyna locks us all in a room until we talk it out.”

Hien was more surprised than he was willing to admit about the confession. But… thankful. He felt Sil’toh’s tail curl around his arm, closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. She smelled like the earth, like a thunderstorm and Thancred. (And like she’d taken a recent dip in the ocean- which aligned with her story.)

She absentmindedly traced patterns on the bare skin of his shoulder, and waited in silence for his choice.

—

Sil’toh returned to the Crystarium far, far sooner than G’raha had expected. He wasn’t ready. To his luck, she immediately went to go find Thancred, giving him time to do two things. The first of which was fret over why they were avoiding him, and the second was contemplate that minion that had been trailing after her which looked an awful lot like _him_.

(He also very much so noticed the half-hidden hickey on her neck and the fact that her hair was down, though her braid was still very much done. It was longer than when he had sealed himself in the tower. His fingers twitched at the thought of running his hands through it.)

Sil’toh didn’t have to look for long. As expected, she found Thancred secluded, leaning against the railings and looking out at the horizon near the tower. A habit she’d noticed he’d taken up since the bloody banquet was finding places like this to think. She came up behind him, deliberately making her footfalls heavier as she approached, and settled in next to him, tail brushing against his left leg as she leaned against his shoulder. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” he hummed, leaning his head against hers and closing his eyes. “How’d it go?”

“He was happy to see me.”

“I’m sure,” Thancred chuckled. “Just as I’m sure he left bruises you could heal but won’t.”

“I like them.”

“I know.”

They remained silent for a minute or two before Thancred moved, and Sil’toh stopped leaning on him to look at him as he turned completely to face her. “So?”

She smiled at him, and Thancred knew without words, some of his tension melting away as he smiled back and cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead to hers with a chuckle. “I cannot begin to imagine how we got so lucky, dearest.”

“Neither can I…”

—

“Oh, so _now_ you two are ready to talk to him,” Lyna said drily, expression as unamused as her tone. “After…”

“A sennight, yes, yes, we could’ve done better,” Sil’toh interjected, waving a hand dismissively. “However, our relationship isn’t as simple as ‘lets talk about our feelings.’”

“Far from it, I’d say,” Thancred added. Lyna looked between them skeptically.

“… Fine.”

Sil’toh and Thancred shared a look. Something told them they wouldn’t be leaving the Ocular until they had sorted things out with their estranged lover.

—

“Thancred, Sil’toh. What an unexpected surprise,” the Exarch greeted when they entered the room, a calm smile plastered on his face. Lyna gave the duo one last hard look, though they couldn’t see it with their backs turned, before she left the room. (But she didn’t leave, instead staying outside the door to ensure they actually talked.)

Sil’toh and Thancred immediately recognized how tense and nervous he was to be alone with them. His ears were angled down slightly, just enough to betray him- and there was a tension in his jaw he was clearly attempting to control in an attempt to hide it. Thancred, ever the more skilled with words between them, was the one to start.

“G’raha,” he replied, and despite the warmth in his voice the man in question flinched. Thancred frowned, and knew Sil’toh likely had a similar expression. G’raha avoided looking at either of them, the illusion of peace shattered. “G’raha, look at us. Please.”

The Exarch fidgeted, head angled down like he wanted to look at the floor instead, but vibrant red peered at them through his lashes. Thancred sighed- this tension was going to drive him to skip the talking if they didn’t clear it away. “Raha,” came the soft voice from his side, gentle and calm and reassuring. “Come here, love.”

G’raha perked up, looking between them with wide eyes as Sil’toh held out a hand, a soft smile on her face. Conflict showed on his face, and Thancred wrapped an arm around the blue-haired woman at his side, offering his own.

That did the trick, and the Miqo’te hesitantly crossed the room, seemingly intending to stop before he reached them. No good- Thancred reached just that little bit further before he could start doubting anything, before he could open his mouth to speak, and pulled him into a tight hug, burying his nose in red locks. “We missed you, Raha.”

“You don’t-“

“Shh,” Sil’toh hummed, pressing against his back, chin on his shoulder. “Don’t say anything, Raha. Just listen, okay?”

He nodded after a moment, settling into the embrace he was sandwiched in, idly chewing at his lip. (A habit of his he hadn’t been able to break in the past hundred years- one he knew Sil’toh and Thancred were acutely aware he had when they first welcomed him into their relationship.)

“You know about Hien,” Sil’toh started. “You should know we still function the same, Raha.”

“Sil’toh and I talked and decided that the first thing we needed to do was figure... _this_ out. She spoke with Hien.”

“They did more than talk,” G’raha mumbled, and Thancred huffed a laugh while Sil’toh turned his head just enough to give him an absolutely _wicked_ grin. Damned vixen- she had _very intentionally_ moved her scarf to show off more of the pale column of her neck, not to mention her collarbone, and all of a sudden swallowing was much harder. (He belatedly realized that she had done her scarf differently than usual, this was more or less how it usually sat, and he wondered if he was the reason why.)

“Hien _was_ quite happy to see me,” she purred, pressing herself against his side in such a way that he could very much feel- oh dear, G’raha had to fight not to think about it. Thancred snickered.

“Stop teasing him, would you? This is supposed to be a _talk_.”

Sil’toh huffed, but let go, took a step back. G’raha was thankful for that much and coughed awkwardly as Thancred, too, released him. “Well.”

“Well, I talked to Hien, and he’s alright with…” Sil’toh waved a hand vaguely at them. “You know.”

To G’raha’s credit, he was an expert at speaking Sil’toh, even after so long without her. (He wondered why that was, sometimes.) He tilted his head, swallowing thickly. “With us being… together.”

“… Yeah, that.”

Thancred blinked. Looked between the two Miqo’tes as they stared at each other. It was so painfully _awkward_ that he could practically _taste_ it, and that said he really didn’t know _what_ awkward tasted like. After a moment, Thancred frowned, considering his options. If any of them acted on a whim _now_, they could say goodbye to any hope of actually talking, but then again… he and Sil’toh were so _bad_ at that part of it that it’d be easier to just move on to the part where they make it more than obvious what they wanted.

_Ah, to hells with it,_ Thancred finally decided. He grabbed the Exarch by the shoulder, ignoring his bewildered expression, tilted his head up and leaned down to kiss him. It was gentle, something soft and colored by his overwhelming _love_ for the Miqo’te in front of him- the man he never told the full extent of his feelings. Even now, after all this time, after nearly loosing him again, he still couldn’t find the strength to say those three damned words to him. So he had to hope- he had to hope this was enough, that G’raha would understand.

To his credit, G’raha recovered from his moment of surprise rather quickly. He knew how his loves struggled with putting their feelings into words- but _this._ They were people of action, not of words, he would not begrudge them speaking like this. But he would not be outdone, either. Oh, no, he would show Thancred just what he thought of those feelings of his.

G’raha’s hand fisted in the collar of Thancred’s coat as he began to kiss back, just as soft and sweet and loving at first. But then, then he pulled Thancred down further, biting his bottom lip harshly before letting go and running his tongue over it in apology. The Hyur’s moment of surprise only lasted a moment longer before he returned it, returned the hunger and the longing, and it wasn’t long before the two were warring for dominance in that kiss.

And the both of them knew Sil’toh _loved_ it. They knew it made her _squirm_ to see this, to watch them together. G’raha could imagine the flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes dilated, the way her breathing sped up and her ears stood at attention. He could imagine the way her breath would catch in her throat were he to look at her now, to catch her watching. He remembered _everything_ in vivid detail, even after a hundred years.

(He could remember her lips on his skin, biting down, sucking a mark onto his neck. He could remember Thancred, petting her head and murmuring praise, and how it made her flush and preen. He remembered how sometimes, when she wanted it rough, what she really needed was someone to take it slow.)

Thancred pulled away for air, panting, and G’raha _heard_ Sil’toh swallow thickly as he broke the string of saliva connecting them. He took measured breaths through his nose as he opened his eyes and took in the Hyur’s face. Eyes closed, face red. A smirk formed on G’raha’s lips unbidden, his eyes flicking to Sil’toh and- _oh_, she looked just as he expected. A single motion and she made her way over, leaning into his touch when his hand, warm and calloused, came to rest on her cheek. His crystalline hand was still firmly grasping Thancred’s coat, keeping him from standing back up. “You’re still my good girl, aren’t you, Sil’toh?” G’raha all but _purred_, and the little whine she made as she nodded made his smirk grow wider. “Mmmh, good, good. Ah- but I can hardly neglect you, you _troublesome_ boy.”

Thancred found himself yanked into another punishing kiss, that cool, crystal hand sliding from his coat to his hair, tangling amidst the strands- and it _pulled_. He cried out against G’raha’s lips, and if the Miqo’te didn’t back him into a wall Thancred’s legs would’ve, without a doubt, buckled under his weight. Another tug and he whimpered as his mouth was reexplored by G’raha’s searching tongue, the sound turning into a drawn-out moan. Gods be good, G’raha Tia had lost _none_ of his skill for his celibacy.

Sil’toh squirmed, hearing the noises Thancred was making, pressing her thighs together on instinct as desire began to very much make itself known. Watching Hien and Thancred did things to her, but _hells_, Raha was something else. He didn’t even ask, he knew what they wanted or needed, and he would _take_ knowing what they would give. Where Hien and Thancred would switch, Raha would _dominate_, an unchangeable force and by the _Twelve_, it _ruined_ her.

(Yet always, _always_, he would ensure that they were okay. She remembered that. She remembered how he would still ask, just to make sure. How he never pushed. He was always so careful with them, even when he was rough.)

G’raha waved her over again, and she rushed to comply, letting him lead her into a searing kiss all it’s own. (She wasn’t sure _when_ he’d stopped kissing Thancred, but Twelve preserve, the noise the Hyur made watching went straight to her core.) She whined into the kiss, letting herself be dominated by this man. She’d loved him for years, but now he was releasing a full century’s worth of pent-up passion, and Sil’toh _couldn’t keep up_. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. Right now, in this moment, she wanted _nothing_ more than to be washed away by the force of G’raha’s emotions.

—

Thancred hummed in thought, frowning as he examined himself in the mirror. He and Sil’toh had, credit to their times as rogues, managed to sneak back to her suite in the Pendants unnoticed. Even if they _were_ limping. G’raha had seen them off with a warm smile, looking more relaxed and carefree than Thancred could remember him being even _once _in the last five years. He imagined all the years before then had carried a tension, a weight, much the same. The bruises on Thancred’s hips, the love bites littering his neck and chest. The red lines he knew were on his back from her nails, the bruises he could feel more than see from where her grip had been too tight on his shoulders.

He decided he’d let them heal on their own instead of asking Sil’toh to heal them. It was rare that he did so, usually only when he wouldn’t see his lovers again for some time and the fading ache of their night together was a comfort as he left. But this time… this time, these marks were in large part because of a man he never expected to see again. A man who was willing to sacrifice himself to prevent the Eighth Umbral Calamity- but more than that, to save _them_.

There had been a promise to bring them breakfast in a few bells, because G’raha knew they were still tired. He’d kept them up for some time, and then Thancred and Sil’toh had dragged themselves up at the crack of dawn to go hide away in her room. There were some things the world didn’t need to know about yet. Things were complicated enough without everyone knowing that two of the Warriors of Darkness were romantically involved with the Crystal Exarch himself.

Thancred heard Sil’toh’s low whine from the bed, looked over, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. She was cocooned in the blankets with only enough of her head sticking out to effectively stare at him. Her hair was a mess, tangled and disheveled from the night before, and neither of them had taken the time to do much more than strip back down and fall into bed after they arrived. Alas, he had been awoken by a dream only two bells later, unable to go back to sleep… which was how he ended up here. He knew she wanted him to come back to bed, both for him to get some more rest and to cuddle her. Rare was it that they truly got a chance to spend such time together.

He sighed and shook his head, limping his way back over and joining her in the warmth of the blankets, where she immediately snuggled into his chest, tail curling around his thigh. After a moment, he felt more than heard her purr, and Thancred let himself drift back to sleep at the sound.

—

The Crystal Exarch was standing alone in the Exedra, staring up at the sky and the clouds on the horizon when Lyna approached. He looked more relaxed and happy than she’d ever seen him, and none the worse for wear considering what she had little doubt occurred the night prior. Just smiling softly, clearly lost in thought, crystal hand on his hip and other simply at his side. His ears were flicking on occasion in response to various sounds around the Crystarium.

“Exarch,” Lyna greeted, “good morning.”

“Lyna,” he said with a warm smile, eyes sparkling in a way she hadn’t seen before. “Is there something you wish to speak to me about?”

Ah- he hit the figurative nail on the head. Lyna recovered quickly. “Yes, though it is nothing urgent. A more personal matter.”

“Ah, you’re curious about how last night went, then,” the Exarch hummed with a knowing smile, eyes crinkling around the corners. She blushed and glanced off to the side at being read so easily, but nodded.

“Aye, I want to know if they did right by you.”

The Exarch burst into warm laughter, his ears flicking up. Truthbetold, at first, Lyna had been surprised at how incredibly expressive they were. Now, though, it was just as normal as thinking of him as a Mystel instead of the Hume they always assumed him to be. After his laughter had calmed into chuckles, he finally spoke. “Worry not. Last night went absolutely _wonderfully_,” the Exarch _purred_, his grin turning into something of a smirk. “Which reminds me- I have a promise to keep. Take care, Lyna.”

As he walked away, Lyna distinctly noticed that the Exarch was _not_ limping.

—

Sil’toh and Thancred both stirred when he opened the door, and G’raha gave a soft hum. The former immediately settled back down, and after a moment, the latter joined her. He smiled and set about his work, commandeering Sil’toh’s little-used kitchen to make the sandwiches he had just gotten the ingredients for. Perhaps not the _best_ of meals to break one’s fast, but it was already rather late in the morning, anyways.

It wasn’t too long before he heard the creak of the bed and shifting of fabric, and a few moments of silence later there were strong arms around his waist and a chest against his back. Thancred rested his forehead on G’raha’s shoulder, caring little for how he had to hunch in order to do so. G’raha leaned back into the embrace, smiling. “Hello to you, too. You’re feeling alright, I hope?”

A tired grunt was the reply, and G’raha rested his head against Thancred’s with a soft hum. “Give me a moment longer, my love, and I’ll wake her.”

The way Thancred’s arms tightened around him in response to the endearment was answer enough. He finished the final sandwich and gently pried himself away from his lover, who had at least had the grace to put a pair of pants. If he was wearing his small clothes was another question G’raha had no intention of learning the answer two for now. (A great many of Thancred’s clothes had migrated to Sil’toh’s apartment, he’d noticed. He ought to talk with him about moving in here entirely.) He made his way over to the bed, sat down. Propped himself up with his crystalline arm and leaned down, nuzzling the top of Sil’toh’s head. “Sil,” he purred, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Sil’toh buried her face in the pillow and he chuckled warmly, and Thancred watched as he leaned against the table. G’raha gently coaxed her into the waking world. Now _that_ was a skill Thancred envied- only G’raha could wake her up, he’d learned. (At least- without getting a fresh dose of agony for his troubles. None of them knew _why_ it worked, but it did.) She slipped on a shirt- one of Thancred’s, at that, and it still caused a pang of contentment to see even after all these years.

They settled in and ate, cracking jokes and falling back into several old routines. Sil’toh and G’raha slipped into a scholarly debate until Thancred grew tired of watching them and shut the latter up with a kiss mid-sentence, earning him a light tug at his hair. His lips curled into a smile.

Late morning turned to early afternoon before their lover left, and they were not too far behind.

—

When Lyna saw the Crystal Exarch again, he was just entering the Aetheryte Plaza from the markets. She hailed him, and whatever path he had been on diverted to greet her with a smile and a nod. “Lyna. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe you were _looking_ for me.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Not this time, my lord. Merely curious as to where you have been, and since the opportunity presented itself…”

“Ah, t’would seem to me that you have been spending some time with the Warriors of Darkness,” he said with a grin, and it took Lyna a moment to realize that he was _teasing_ her. “But nevermind that- ah!”

A… _bird_ had just landed atop his head, and he blinked in surprise before his smile returned and he offered his crystal hand as a perch, which the blue thing gladly accepted. Lyna had _no_ idea what this was about, but the Exarch most certainly did, patting the top of the bird’s head with his fingers. It cooed, wings ruffling, and then chirped happily at him. Frankly, the sight was… both adorable and startling.

“Ah, so _that’s_ where you went off to,” came a voice from behind the Exarch, and both he and Lyna looked over to find Thancred and Sil’toh, clad in their equipment- though Sil’toh was most certainly not carrying her bow, and instead a pair of chakrams rested at her hips.

Lyna _very_ distinctly noticed the subtle limp when Thancred approached and clapped a hand on the Exarch’s shoulder, and then Sil’toh’s as well, and her mind was sent _reeling_. Perhaps she didn’t know the Exarch as well as she had thought after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok gonna talk about THIS now  
for some unexpected reason writing G'raha so dominant was Very Easy and im not complaining but WHOO it was intense to write im sorry for any murders I have committed with this chapter  
it just bumped up the rating for the fic to M and I cannot
> 
> on another note: next up on Love and Hate is Thangst! prepare your emotions :))


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Reach was attacked, and the Warrior of Light herself collapsed from injury and exhaustion, Thancred was the one left standing. This time, it was he who was the helpless one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooooooo  
I promised Thangst I believe I delivered. got soft at the end, but still sad. Takes place following the attack on the Reach, as implied by the summary  
square shouldn't have given me NG+ im using it for evil things

“No- no, I have to see her, let me _go_, damn you!-“

“We can’t let you-“  
“By the Twelve, Thancred, when did you- what’s going on here?!”

Sil’toh wasn’t sure what was going on. Everything was… so foggy._ Where…?_

“This man-“

“Has more right than any of us to be with her!”

_That voice… Alisaie?_

Darkness consumed her awareness before she could will her eyes to open.

“Why won’t she wake up?”

“We don’t know, Thancred. We’re trying everything, but…”

_Thancred? Krile?…_

“Hells, what even _happened_ to her?”  
“She collapsed after fighting Zenos…”

“You let Sil’toh fight him on her own?!”

_It wasn’t… their…._

“Come back to me,” his voice was breaking. She could feel his hands- warm, calloused, wrapped around one of her own. “Please.”

_Save your tears, Thancred. I’m far from worth them…_

“Thancred?”

“What,” he mumbled. He was- tired. Sounded tired, looked tired. It’d been nearly a sennight, now, and Alisae wasn’t sure Thancred had been sleeping. She wondered if these two were always like this about each other. Worrying. Throwing themselves into their work when something went- wrong.

“You need to _rest_-“

“I can’t rest!”

Alisae recoiled at the outburst. It was unexpected, and Thancred ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Gods, I- I’m sorry, I just-“

“Do you have any idea how scared she would be if she saw you like this?”

Both Alisaie and Thancred turned to face the newcomer in surprise- finding Lyse, arms crossed and giving Thancred a hard, hard look. He grit his teeth and looked off to the side- yes, he knew full well. But he couldn’t help it- he was helpless, he couldn’t do _anything_ for Sil’toh, but he could- he could help in her place. He could do the things she couldn’t because she was hurt, and he wasn’t. (He knew she would have sat him down, or maybe asked Lucian to keep an eye on him.)

“Thancred, please,” Lyse pleaded, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. “_Rest_. I know it’s difficult, but- she’d want you to take care of yourself.”

Lyse and Alisaie both pretended not to see his tears hit the metal of the path under their feet.

—

Thancred blinked. Once. Twice. He hadn’t actually expected for Lucian to- be here, when he arrived, but there he was, blinking owlishly back at Thancred. One ear flicked as he looked in the rogue’s disheveled appearance. “Well this is an unexpected surprise. Not unwelcome, though-“

“Sil’toh’s hurt,” Thancred said, cutting him off. Lucian’s eyes narrowed and he set aside whatever he’d been doing, tail lashing back and forth behind him.

“What?”

“She’s been unconscious for the past sennight.”

The aura coming from the blond grew _dangerous_. Thancred didn’t particularly care, seating himself in the armchair and hunching over, running his hands through his hair. “She fought the crown prince of the Empire. Alone. And he- he didn’t just beat her, Lucian, he _crushed_ her- from what I’ve been told. It certainly looks that way…” He took in a shaky breath.

“Imma kill ‘em.”

“I- pardon?”  
“_Imma kill ‘em_.”

Thancred should’ve expected that response. It certainly felt good to hear someone share the sentiment so openly.

—

When Thancred returned to Castrum Oriens, it was alone. He’d managed to keep Lucian from coming himself on the promise that when he got the chance, he’d bring Sil’toh home- which he very much meant to do.

He returned, in fact, to news that Sil’toh was _awake_. His legs carried him on instinct towards the infirmary- his mind too busy trying to process the information.

—

Thancred was not there when Sil’toh woke. She woke slowly, yes, but that was the first thing she noticed when she managed to pry open her eyes. It evoked mixed feelings- most of all _concern_. It proved to be well-founded.

“He wasn’t sleeping, you know. Threw himself into helping us all in the aftermath,” Lyse said quietly. Sil’toh’s ears pressed flat against her head. “Thancred worries about you.”

“I know,” she mumbled. “I know he does- and I worry about him in turn. But…”

“I almost hit him.”

Sil’toh gave a weak smile at that. “I’m sure you did. I... where is he?”

“I... don’t actually know,” she admitted, looking off to the side. “He said something about going home, maybe speaking to Lucian before he left. I only know what half of that means.”

Sil’toh understood. As much as it relieved her, it also worried her and- gods, she wanted him _there_. She felt sick, remembering what had occurred. How weak and _powerless_ she was to do _anything_. She couldn’t save- so many people. Should’ve been faster, should’ve been _stronger_-

(If she had been even marginally better, how many people could she have saved? Would it have spared Meffrid?)

The door burst open abruptly, and Sil’toh knew it was Thancred before she even looked up, and he knew she needed him there before she said a word. He crossed the room in only a few strides, wrapping her in his arms as he sat down on the edge of the cot. His nose was pressed into her hair, her hands gripping his shirt. Sil’toh heard Lyse leave the room. Knowing her, she’d probably help give them some privacy. She took down a mental note to repay her for that.

They sat in silence, taking comfort in each other’s warmth and presence. After everything, Sil’toh could count the number of people who saw her for who she was on one hand- the ones that were still around, anyways. She inhaled, pressed her forehead against Thancred’s collarbone. She knew he noticed the way she shook. “Than,” she whispered, voice weak. “He’s- he’s a _monster_.”

“I saw what he did to you,” he said softly, arms tightening around her. “I wish I could…”

“No! No, you- better me than anyone else.”

“Sil’toh, you have to stop thinking like that,” he grit out. Gods- he hated it when she did this. When she assumed that she was worth less than everyone else. Sil’toh was the _Warrior of Light_, the best of the Scions and the Maelstrom and likely the whole realm, besides. “You are _worth it_.”

“I’m not, Thancred! I’m not worth the sacrifices! How many more people have to die before people realize that?! I couldn’t- I couldn’t save them, Thancred! I don’t know their names but that doesn’t mean their faces will leave me. And… Meffrid...”

He head her voice break and tremble, felt her shaking in his arms. He knew her eyes were burning with unshed tears because she didn’t think she was _allowed_ to cry. He hated it. Thancred hated how she heaped these expectations upon herself because the people called her hero. She was so busy being what people wanted of her that Sil’toh kept forgetting to be what _she_ wanted. And in moments like this, Thancred wished more than ever that he could do something about it.

“Sil’toh. Sil’toh, look at me,” he said, letting her go to put his hands on her cheeks and pull her gaze to his. Thancred pressed his forehead to hers, searching her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, as expected tears were swimming in her eyes, her lips trembling and her ears flat against her hair. Conflict, regret, guilt, pain-

_Fear_.

She was afraid, probably terrified, and he couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t begrudge her that. Thancred was scared, too, though more for her than anyone else. He felt one of her hands on his wrist, felt the slightest of tremors. His heart broke in his chest, seeing her so terrified for what were probably largely the wrong reasons made his chest tight and his eyes water. It made him want to rage, to yell out at the world but they weren’t entirely to blame. All he could do was hold her close, comfort her and make sure she wasn’t alone, never alone.

“Gods... you have done so much for us. All of us,” he mumbled. “You don’t see how much you’re worth. How much you mean to us.”

“I failed so many-“

“You didn’t owe them _anything_, Sil’toh.”

The tears began to fall. He brushed the first few away with his thumbs, kissing her forehead. They were silent tears, and he hated that she looked for _permission_ in his expression to cry. She didn’t need it, she really didn’t- if anyone was allowed to cry, it was her, who’d given so much for Eorzea, who’d grit her teeth and pushed through the loss and the pain even when she’d wanted to give up, give in and just let things happen.

He held her while she cried. He wondered how long it’d been this time- he knew the first time she cried in front of him, it’d been the first time in over _fifteen years_.

Thancred swore he wouldn’t leave her again, holding her while she cried into his shoulder. He swore he wouldn’t leave her a third time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow morning gives Sil'toh a chance to reflect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is. pure self-indulgent fluff. this is early on in their relationship, so they're still learning and figuring things out :') soft dumbs

She felt warm. Belatedly, Sil’toh realized that was on account of the warm body she was pressed against. Thancred’s arm was slung over her form, his other under the pillow. She knew it was only partially for comfort, his hand wrapped around the handle of a blade the same way she had a small knife in a sheath on her left forearm, hidden by her sleeves. She had found that even in her own home she could be on edge, a weapon always nearby.

This was not her home. This was the small, if comfortable, room in the Rising Stones which belonged to Thancred, and even so he slept with a dagger in hand. They were similar, in that respect, she thought.

Sil’toh decided he didn’t _look_ like he was armed, when she opened her eyes. Not really. He was peaceful, for the moment, hair falling in his face. There wasn’t nearly as much tension to his form as when he was awake, but she knew he was a relatively light sleeper. Her, less so, but she’d trained herself. Her tail brushed absently against the leg it had curled around in her sleep and Thancred stirred, briefly, before settling back down.

Sil’toh wanted to run her hands through his hair. Comb it back, maybe, but he wasn’t comfortable with that and ever had she respected his boundaries. Was that not, after all, just as crucial a part of a relationship like this as honesty? (She found she couldn’t remember, it was too long ago, and never had she been in a relationship. Not like this, anyways, where she felt safe and valued and perhaps even _loved_.)

“More than I deserve,” she mumbled, almost absently. “But that’s the thing about us, isn’t it? We both underestimate our values...”

Gently, she brushed Thancred’s bangs from his face, cupping his cheek in her hand. His brow furrowed briefly, momentarily smoothing back to a peaceful expression. She was glad. He hadn’t been sleeping well, dreams, nightmares he couldn’t recall forcing him back to the waking world with ever-increasing regularity. Doubtless they were phantoms of the time Lahabrea possessed him, still blaming himself for the slaughter of the Scions and whatever else the Ascian had done. But, in a way… Sil’toh was more responsible. She had noticed something was… _off_ with him, at one point, and had she _just_ spoken up-

But she hadn’t, and when she had returned to the Waking Sands, it was to the death and destruction the Empire had left in their wake.

(If anyone was guilty of anything here, surely, _surely_ it was Sil’toh herself. Not Thancred, who had only been doing his utmost for the Scions. No one could have predicted what would happen as a result of his tireless efforts.)

“Yer thinkin’ loud, Sil,” Thancred mumbled, abruptly, voice rough and low from sleep. It snapped her from her thoughts and he opened an eye, watching her blink at him. He gave an inquisitive grunt and watched the blush darken her cheeks.

“I- sorr- wait, was that an accent?”

_Fuck,_ Thancred thought, pressing his face against the pillow and grimacing as a bolt of panic hit him. He was about to make an excuse or _something_ when she spoke again. “I- I’m not saying I don’t like it, it’s quite the opposite actually, uh…”

Silence.

It was _incredibly_ awkward.

“Uh,” Thancred finally said, breaking the silence. Sil’toh’s blush deepened and she hid her face against the pillow, ears angled down in her embarrassment. “… Sil?”

There was a muffled sound he took to be a ‘what’ in response. Thancred released the knife in his hand and used it to draw her closer instead, pressing her form to his chest and smiling. It felt _right_, having her there, especially when she shifted again to press her face against his collarbone, head tucked under his chin, legs tangled together. Her tail lazily laid over his waist, one arm thrown over his torso while the other was trapped between them, her hand on his chest. “There ye are,” he murmured. “Mornin, luv.”

Sil’toh could’ve melted right then and there at the _affection_ lacing his tone. The warmth. Warden have mercy, she was in deep, wasn’t she? A smile curled across her lips as she closed her eyes.

She didn’t mind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hien knew, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is set shortly after Stormblood, but Sil'toh and Thancred ended up traveling with Hien back to Doma! because. its fic fuel and that's what we're here for.  
so yes, that does mean that this is pretty early in the relationship for Hien and he's still figuring them out, and his place with them as well  
and yes basically its just fluff again but this time himbo flavored

Hien quickly realized that Thancred Waters and Sil’toh Sylphystia were similar in many regards.

He _also_ realized that they were something of a disaster.

Sil’toh had been a wanderer for _very_ long time, Hien had gathered that much quickly. She was well-adjusted to being in the wilderness and on the road, perhaps even _thrived_. He couldn’t claim to know the circumstances, but he could see that much. And Thancred…

Thancred was a man who disliked much of himself. Doubted his worth. (They both did, Hien knew.) He would push himself to the breaking point if given the chance, and had in the past, if Sil’toh’s habit of worrying over his health was any indication. He was _strong_, and determined, but Hien could see that Thancred hurt. Wounds that had never really healed.

And Hien was absolutely _certain_ that neither of them realized just how much they meant to those closest to them. He’d realized that during a conversation with Lyse and Lucian after Ala Mhigo, one that a few others from Sil’toh’s Free Company had dropped in on at one point._“They’re always giving their all for others,” _Lyse had said, _“but I’m not sure how much they do for themselves. I mean, I know that Sil’toh is the Warrior of Light, which means being selfless is… her ‘thing,’ but…”_

He remembered Lucian’s words. _“Sil’s kinda an idiot. Maybe the most selfish thing she’s done is eat too many sweets? Not sure if she’s ever cried, either. The happiest I think I’ve ever seen her is… during the Crystal Tower expedition? While she and Thancred were with G’raha.”_

Hien sighed as he stepped outside, looking around. Where had they run off to _this_ time?

—

Sil’toh hummed. Her tail curled behind her as she observed the horizon, turning a thought over in her mind. Heavy, intentional footsteps came from behind her and she hummed, leaning forward and turning her head to look at the culprit over her shoulder. Thancred smiled back. “So this is where you ran off to. Thinking, are we?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she hummed. Always this exchange, it seemed.

“I would. That’s why I asked, dearest,” he hummed, coming to sit by her side. “Gil for your thoughts?”

“… You think we’re okay?”

He raised a brow and hummed. “What do you mean?”

“… Nevermind.”

Thancred frowned, almost said something else, but was interrupted by footfalls on the docks and a familiar voice. “Ah, there you two are. I was almost beginning to worry!”

Sil’toh and Thancred shared a look before turning back to him. The Miqo’te shrugged. “If you intend to do that, then come sit with us. Or is that above you, _Lord_ Hien?” Sil’toh teased, tail curling. A playful smile graced her expression, eyes twinkling with mirth, and Hien’s heart skipped a beat. His cheeks warmed and he was frozen for a second before the expression on Thancred’s face turned warm and he scooted over, offering a space between himself and Sil’toh.

Hien took the opportunity with little hesitation, setting his katana next to him. Sil’toh took his hand in both of her own and brought it up to her face. Hien looked to Thancred in confusion, but the older man only smiled in response. His expression was soft, and wasn’t wearing his bandana, showing the look in it’s entirety. A small, affectionate, _loving_ smile, his eyes crinkled just a fraction around the corners.

And then Hien looked back to Sil’toh, her eyes met his, the same soft look there on her face. His chest felt tight as she kissed his knuckles. The amount of boundless_ affection_ these two had showered him in had left him _reeling._ Everything they gave him, they did so unconditionally, asking for nothing in return. It was almost overwhelming.

An arm wound around his waist, Thancred’s form leaning against his own. When Hien turned to look at him, the rogue smiled in a way that made his heart melt, and he couldn’t stop the heat rising to his face when a gentle kiss was pressed to the scar on his brow. Thancred said nothing, settling himself there, leaning his head on Hien’s shoulder and turning his gaze to the horizon.

As if that wasn’t enough, Sil’toh leaned up and nuzzled his jaw, a smile on her face when he turned to look at her, eyes wide. Her hand came up to his face, cupping his cheek, and Hien leaned into the touch unconsciously. She _giggled_—he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever heard her do that before— and it was a light, pleasant sound, just as soft the touch of her lips on his own that followed.

“You, Hien Rijin,” she began, voice little more than a whisper, “are loved and valued, not just as a leader—“

“— but as a man,” Thancred finished for her. Hien’s heart felt fit to burst in his chest as he looked at them, their soft smiles and the love, the _adoration_ in their eyes, not just for each other but for _him_. “And we are here for _him._ For _you_, just as you are. No titles, no pretenses. There is no Warrior of Light or Lord of Doma here, far as I can see. Just Hien and Sil’toh.”

Sil’toh made a soft noise and reached out to Thancred, who took her hand in one of his own and pressed a kiss to the back of it, intertwining his fingers with hers. Interlocked, and Hien realized that _yes,_ they were a disaster, but there was a beauty in their chaos. Broken and fractured and hurt, but they were _here_, supporting each other every step of the way. They didn’t need order to the chaos, but they _wanted_ someone unafraid of it, who would willingly walk into the storm and _trust_ that they wouldn’t be swept away.

Hien realized that they hoped _he_ would be that someone, and that they were _right._ If there was any chaos he would trust not to drag him under, it was _theirs_. (He wondered if G’raha had seen this, too. Something told him he had, and hadn’t thought twice about walking into it, whatever it entailed.)

When Thancred settled again, Hien leaned his head against the rogue’s as Sil’toh made herself comfortable with his thighs as a pillow. His free hand went to her hair, and in silence they watched the sun set over the horizon.

_For them, anything._

Hien knew at that moment it was love.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't like the Reach.
> 
> This time, it was far, far worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before we start: some content warnings!
> 
> There are several instances of panic attacks throughout this, as well as general assault and trauma. Please beware!
> 
> I don't really know where this one came from, honestly, but it HURT me  
Please note there are also spoilers for early 5.0

Fighting Ran’jit was far, _far _too familiar for Sil’toh. She remembered fighting Zenos in the Reach, how _easily_ he had crushed her. _How many did I fail to save because I wasn’t strong enough, then?_

_What if it happens again, now?_

Bile burned at the back of her throat at the thought as Sil’toh landed in a crouch, tail whipping behind her. “I have your measure now. The game is up.”

Her eyes widened. _Fear. _No, no, no! She wouldn’t let this be a repeat of what happened at the Reach! She _wouldn’t!_

Pain, white-hot and electric, flared through her senses. Sil’toh cried out. Her hands trembled.

_“Know your folly.”_

_No. Not again. _Never _again._

Sil’toh stood, baring her teeth in a snarl, and _growled._ Her hair had come undone. She didn’t care. It fell into her eyes and she didn’t care. Ran’jit’s eyes narrowed. She lunged, barehanded until the last second, drawing a dagger previously hidden—

A crushing grip on her left wrist. She dropped the blade in favor of attempting to pry his hand away.

She chanced to look into his eyes and felt something cold, _primal_. Was this how _her_ enemies felt, facing her? Was that the cold, unfeeling expression _she_ wore? The world seemed to slow down, in that instant, as their eyes met.

And then she was face-down in the dirt, and the next thing she registered was _pain_ as her left arm _snapped_. A scream tore from her lips, but the image of his _eyes_ in her head— so _cold, so heartless, so unfeeling—_

Everything that followed was a blur. She remembered being teleported, she remembered running. Fear._ Pain._ The pain was the most vivid part, perhaps, save for the gnawing feeling that she had _failed._ Again, she had _failed,_ she had been too _weak_. But Ran’jit wasn’t _like_ Zenos. Ran’jit wasn’t a battle-thirsty maniac.

When she looked into his eyes, Sil’toh saw her own. _That_ was what scared her the most. And knowing that, how many would die for her failure there? How many?

“We should be safe enough here. It’s good to see you again, my friends. I don’t know about you, but it feels like _years _since last we met. Five of them, in my case,” Thancred said, and his voice cut through the haze like a knife through butter. Her heart skipped a beat. How _desperately_ she had wanted to hear that voice for what felt like years herself. And _never_ more than right now. Her right hand hovered uselessly near her left arm, limp, broken at the elbow. It still hurt. It hurt _so bad._

“Why, it only feels like _one_ to me. But long enough to warrant a more convivial reunion, either way,” Alisae replied with a weak chuckle, still shaken by what she had witnessed. Sil’toh was lagging behind them all, and she felt so _distant._ “What brought you to Laxan Loft?”

Thancred frowned and turned his attention to the girl, the Oracle. As much as Sil’toh wanted to take comfort, something about the look on his face threw her senses into further alarm. “The girl, Minfilia. She and I were traveling together, hunting sin eaters. But as we were nearing Lakeland, she abruptly ran off on her own.” He turned his gaze to the ground, now. “I found her too late to stop the Eulmorans from taking her prisoner. And as I was considering rescue options, I observed that the Crystarium was on the move.”

He looked up again, gaze wandering the faces before him, and the frown became more prominent. Had he truly not seen her yet? Did— did she matter so little to him, now? “So I consulted the Exarch, who apprised me of the details of the operation— and issued me certain instructions. Should the situation take a turn for the worse, I was to see you all safely to Il Mheg. And here we are.”

Alphinaud seemed to grow thoughtful, and Sil’toh withdrew. Her heart ached. Her arm screamed in pain with every movement. She wanted—

She wanted to go_ home_.

“Sooner or later, the Eulmorans will come after us,” Thancred said, and _that_ registered. Sil’toh felt her throat closing up, her breathing quicken. Tears burn at her eyes as her ears pressed flat to her head. She didn’t really _see_ anything, but her blood turned to ice in her veins. No. No, no, _no_, if the Eulmorans came then _Ran’jit_ was coming, and that meant—

A soft voice cut through her thoughts once more as the Oracle turned to look at her. Finally, _finally_ someone was looking in her direction— “You. The hero from another world… I was asleep when I felt it. A presence. Someone I was meant to meet. They were close, and…and I knew I had to go to them. But with all the commotion in Lakeland, I was afraid that Thancred wouldn’t…let me…”

Her words raised red flag after red flag. Every fiber of her being screamed that something wasn’t right, and Sil’toh wanted _desperately_ for it not to be true.

“And would I have been wrong? Had I arrived a moment later, you would be back in your cell in Eulmore. And now we have Ran’jit snapping at our heels! You really have outdone yourself this time,” Thancred snapped. He was aggressive, too aggressive, and she took a step back and her arm moved and the _look_ on Minfilia’s face, and _the pain in her arm was flaring and it was all so much, it was too much and—_

What finally drew everyone’s attention was the pained cry Sil’toh let out as her knees hit the ground, entire body shaking. Thancred felt his anger and frustration melt away, replaced with _fear_. The same fear he’d felt when he’d seen her challenge Ran’jit. Her arm hung limp at her side and tears ran hot down her face, and his blood ran cold.

_It was happening again. Just like with Zenos, but at the same time it was _worse _because he was _there, _and he _still _hadn’t been fast enough. Just like Ifrit, he’d been too _slow—

He wanted to help her. To comfort her, but his feet were frozen in place as he watched Alphinaud rush over to her side, asking her what was wrong. Then his face grew pale.

_Her arm._

Every time she tried to grab it, every time it was jostled, she cried out or whimpered. Ran’jit had _broken her arm._ He’d _hurt_ her in a way no other enemy had done. Not even Zenos. He could see it, now, the _panic_ on her face, the way she’d paled. Thancred felt bile burning at the back of his throat.

Sil’toh _hurt._ Everything hurt, a lasting ache in her body and continued, fiery pain in her arm, her heart aching. How she _craved_ comfort, but she’d _made Thancred a promise, and—_

A wail tore from her throat as Alphinaud grabbed her arm, gentle as he was being. She’d _failed_ and she didn’t have anywhere to go and—

The last thing she remembered seeing before sweet, peaceful, _painless_ darkness claimed her was Thancred’s stunned, _horrified_ expression.

—

Thancred was _enraged._ At Ran’jit, at Minfilia, but mostly—

Mostly, his anger was directed at himself. He’d _failed_ her, and Naoki, and Hien in _so many ways_ since he woke up in the First. And the pixies weren’t any help. They wouldn’t shut up, they wouldn’t just _fuck off and leave him alone_—

Thancred could not help his tears.

—

Sil’toh came to slowly to find herself completely healed. Alphinaud’s relieved face was the first thing she saw. But she could still _feel_ it, even though her arm was no longer broken.

Bile burned at the back of her throat, and this time, she really did vomit. How? How could everything have gone so _wrong_?

Hot tears fell from her eyes as Alphinaud held her hair back for her, concern plain, and rubbed her back.

_I want to go home._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sil'toh finds the burden of the Light to be too much to carry.
> 
> Thancred struggles with his own fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you ready for more pain?  
because this is pain. I'm sorry.

It hurt. No, it didn’t just _hurt_.

It was _agonizing_. Burning white-hot like the Light which caused it, she could _feel_ the fractures in her own soul. (Was her awareness of her own condition the result of something? Who was she, really? A distant part of her whispered— _Ath—_)

She could not bite back the scream as her knees hit the ground.

Sil’toh felt a hand on her back, another pulling her up against a familiar warmth, white fabric and black armor, she could tell even with her vision blurred. Her hands shook- she felt burning at the back of her throat, a foul taste in the back of her mouth. She belatedly realized it was bile, and that she felt like vomiting.

“Sil? Sil’toh, are you alright?”

Thancred’s voice was distant, muffled, almost, as though she were underwater. She could hear him, his concern, his words clear as day but they didn’t _process_. Agony still jolted through her senses, though the source was passed. _Phantom pains,_ she recalled, clear as day. Calloused fingers on her cheek and hazel eyes met silver. “Sil’toh?”

She didn’t like the _fear_ on Thancred’s face. Behind him she could just make out the forms of Y’shtola and Ryne, hear other voices that didn’t really reach her. Not like Thancred’s.

Thancred did _not _like the look on her face. Her eyes were unfocused, her skin had lost its color. She was cold and clammy in his arms, breath ragged. He could see her ears flicking, but nothing seemed to really _reach_ her. Panic gripped him, cold and cruel and _painfully _familiar. (Zenos, Ran’jit. It was something he felt every time someone bested her, now, and it was a cold terror that had paralyzed him at first every time.) “Damnit! Don’t do this to me again, Sil’toh!”

Sil’toh looked so small there, cradled in his arms. He saw her hand move to her left arm, her elbow. Fresh _hate_ boiled up inside of him, hate for Ran’jit and for Zenos and for _himself_. He’d watched her struggle in silence and he hadn’t done a damn _thing_, and now she was here in his arms and he knew, even if she didn’t, that she was _afraid._ Afraid she’d fail. (She’d never failed. Not in his eyes. Any anger he’d thought he’d felt towards her was really just anger at _himself_, because he hadn’t been fast enough. He hadn’t been strong enough. He hadn’t been so many things when people had needed him to be.)

So when Sil’toh whimpered and tears welled in her eyes Thancred held her close, cradled against his chest, and tucked her head under his chin. He closed his own eyes to hold back his own tears. This wouldn’t make up for the mistakes. It couldn’t, and he knew it wasn’t over, because he _had_ fucked up. He’d made mistakes and he hadn’t been the only one to suffer because of them. Ryne and Sil’toh had suffered, too, and there was no describing the _guilt_ which weighed on him, now.

And seeing her, in pain and afraid, hurt more than he cared to give words to. Thancred had always hated it, but this…this was different. He didn’t know how to help her with this. He didn’t have a damn _clue_ about what to do and he _hated _it.

He heard Y’shtola saying something about knowing this could happen.

Thancred _snapped._

“You KNEW?!”

He saw Ryne, Alphinaud, and Alisae all flinch out of the corner of his eye. Thancred couldn’t find it in himself to care, turning to stare at Y’shtola. At Urianger, at her side, looking uncertain. Thancred was absolutely _livid_. “You knew… that this might happen. And you didn’t say a fucking _word_,” he snarled. Urianger flinched, and he _knew._ “And you, too? Nobody cared to _fucking mention this?”_

“Thancred, we told Sil—“

  
“I don’t want to hear it!”

Sil’toh hated shouting. She hated shouting, and she hated the _pain_ in Thancred’s voice. The _fear_.

She felt hot tears leaking from her eyes as she tugged weakly at his coat. Saw hazel eyes widen ‘ere he looked back at her, anger gone, replaced with worry and fear and _guilt_. And for all the things she wanted to say, she could not bring herself to speak. A hand weaved itself into her hair and cradled the back of her head, pulling her close and letting her hide her face against his shoulder as she shook.

As _he_ shook. Even with the lingering pain as though she were being ripped apart (because she was, she knew), she could feel the tremble of Thancred’s form, of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against the side of her head. “I’m sorry.”

She heard his voice _break_, but there were no words to say. She knew those apologies weren’t for his outburst.

And he knew they wouldn’t be enough, no matter how much he desired to hear her say that it was okay. That she forgave him.

Thancred carried Sil’toh back to Twine, but no one spoke as the stars shone down on them from overhead.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of their adventures on the First, Sil'toh and Thancred both struggle with what occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? weird, I know, but I wanted hurt/comfort too. that said, there is a panic attack near the end and the beginning of the chapter itself could make people uncomfortable, so tread carefully please <3  
and yes this is slightly an excuse for a multilayer sandwich to happen.  
5.0 spoilers abound in this chapter, as well! this is post-5.0 as the summary implies, but pre-5.1

_Snap._

_It was such a _quiet_ sound, yet at the same time it was so horrifically loud it was the only thing she could hear. A scream tore from her lips as white-hot agony shot through her body from the point of the break._

_Agony._

_Agony._

_Agony._

_She was being torn apart. Her skin turned pale. She hated it. She would scrub her hands raw._

_She hated it. She hated it. She hated it._

_She hated looking in the mirror._

_She looked in the mirror. The face that stared back was not her own. Gold, white. The silver of her eyes was gone. The blue of her hair gold. The green of the ends, white._

_White and gold. White and gold. White and gold._

_Snap. Snap. Snap. Bones broke under her hands. They were not her own._

Sil’toh woke up with a scream tearing from her throat and tears burning at her eyes.

_Snap. Snap. Snap._ The sound echoed in her mind and she cried out, tears streaming down her face as her hands covered her ears, pulled at her hair. Her body shook. The sound wouldn’t go away. Those eyes wouldn’t go away. Cold. Unfeeling. Heartless.

She hated looking in the mirror.

She scrubbed her hands raw.

Nothing made these demons go away. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, _nothing—_

She was alone.

She was cold.

She was afraid.

(She was not alone.)

Sil’toh’s heartbeat pounded in her ears but it didn’t drown out the sound of breaking bones. Her arm ached where it had been broken. Bile burned in the back of her throat and reminded her of coughing up white. Choking on it. It had _burned_. She’d felt like she’d been boiling alive and _still_ it had burned.

She was cold. Her hands felt like ice.

She woke up. Truly, this time, not caught by the vestiges of her nightmares. A broken sob escaped, torn from her throat. A hand, warm and comforting and familiar, tentatively touched her shoulder. When she did not move away, Thancred wrapped his arm around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She trembled in his arms like a leaf in a storm, the noises spilling from her lips more akin to that of a wounded animal than a woman.

—

Thancred was not sure when, exactly, Sil’toh had fallen back asleep. He could not claim the same luxury, even with his arms around her form and her head pillowed on his chest. He’d spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, wondering what to do. How to help her. As the sun rose his restlessness grew, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head as he got up. He brushed dark blue locks away from her face and cupped her cheek, running a thumb underneath her eye.

As he was leaving the Pendants, he overheard a conversation.

“Did you hear that damn scream again?”  
“Wicked white, it doesn’t _stop_. Every damn night, I swear…”  
“Whoever is responsible should leave if they can’t get over it—“

Thancred saw _red._ He was over there with a snarl on his face before he knew what he was doing.

“Do you want to repeat that?”

“Excuse me? Wait, you’re one of the Warriors of—“

“_After everything she gave for you,_” Thancred hissed, and he saw the duo recoil from the sheer amount of _venom_ in his tone. “_This is the thanks she gets? All of her suffering, and this is the thanks?_”

“What is that supposed to mean—“

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he growled.

He did not wait for a reply as he left. This had to stop. He was tired of hearing this, he was tired of these _ignorant bloody people_ who had decided that since they didn’t have any problems now that the night had returned, no one else could have them either. He was tired of hearing them have the _gall_ to complain after _everything_ Sil’toh had gone through for them.

After she’d nearly lost her _life_ for them.

After G’raha, _his_ G’raha, had nearly sacrificed himself for them.

The guard at the entrance to the tower did not say a word as he let Thancred in. Frequent as the man’s visits were, _never_ had he appeared so livid.

—

G’raha expected this visit as much as he expected Thancred’s rage. His own anger boiled just below the surface to see people care so _little_ about another’s suffering.

All the same, he listened to Thancred rant. He knew the gunbreaker could see the anger in his own eyes. Sil’toh had always said they grew darker when he was angry.

Sil’toh.

As Thancred’s rant became more of a breakdown, he stepped forward. Gathered the taller man into his arms and held him, rubbed his hand along his back until he calmed down.

“We can’t leave her alone, Thancred.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I know. It happened again and I— I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her, Raha,” and Thancred’s voice _broke_, taking G’raha’s heart with it. To see not one, but _both_ of his lovers struggling so…

He took a deep breath and pressed a kiss to Thancred’s cheek as he sent the Hyur back to Sil’toh’s side. The decision was made.

—

Sil’toh woke up to a hand carding through her hair. To the smell of Thancred, and she could hear his breathing.

Silver eyes opened and hazel eyes widened. But then he smiled, something sad but soft and small and _loving_, and she grabbed his hand by the wrist. Thancred was only wearing a loose shirt paired with his usual pants at the moment, and she took the opportunity to kiss his palm and nuzzle his hand while she could. The soft chuckle she earned made a smile of her own cross her lips.

But her heart weighed heavy knowing she worried him so. Sil’toh shifted, resting her head on his thigh and wrapping her arms around him. He looked surprised for a moment before his hand was back in her hair, and she did naught to stop her purrs.

“Why don’t we get you something to eat?”

She could not refuse him.

—

_“They need your help. _I _need your help.”_

That was not a plea that Hien could refuse so easily. So here he was, and it felt _surreal_.

He recognized the Crystal Tower on sight. Sil’toh _had_ said that the Exarch had terrible aim, and this proved it. He recognized his surrounds from her stories, near a lake called the Source in Lakeland. (It made him laugh a little for several reasons. Reasons he pushed aside as he made his way towards the tower. He remembered the first time he’d seen it, hand-in-hand with Sil’toh and Thancred a warm presence on his other side. He remembered how they’d sat at the doors, closed though they were, and just talked. The same way you talk to the dead, he’d thought at the time.

He saw just how much G’raha Tia had meant to them, then.)

A white-haired Viera woman— no, Viis, Sil’toh had told him that— stopped him as he reached the gate. “Halt!”

Hien’s easygoing smile did not falter, though his hand rested on the hilt of his katana. Even as she asked from whence he hailed, worry pervaded his mind.

Ere he could speak, a Miqo’te with red hair tipped in white wearing robes of Allagan design ran in, promptly hunching over with his hands on his knees and heaving for breath. The Viis woman turned to him in evident surprise. “Exarch! Is…is this _another_ of your guests?”

The Exarch held up a finger in an indication to give him a moment. Hien’s heart skipped a beat. _This_ was G’raha? The Crystal Exarch?

The Exarch stood and opened his eyes. Crimson met green and a small, sly smirk tugged at those full lips.

_Fuck,_ Hien could see _exactly_ why Thancred and Sil’toh fell for him already.

—

“I realized she hadn’t told me _everything_, but that…”

Hien’s heart weighed heavy in his chest as he and the Exarch— _G’raha Tia_, the man who’d previously only existed in the stories Sil’toh and Thancred had told him— walked around the Crystarium. Greetings and curious looks were frequent, and Hien supposed he _did_ look rather exotic.

He also didn’t particularly care, learning the things he was. G’raha watched him silently as they strolled through the city. “I’m not sure how much longer Thancred and Ryne will be here, either. Still investigating the Empty, and…”

“Sil’toh shouldn’t be left alone,” Hien finished for him, and G’raha nodded quietly. He was a tad surprised at Hien’s perceptiveness, but thankful for it nonetheless. Between that and his undeniably warm and welcoming demeanor, he recognized what drew Thancred and Sil’toh to him. “And you… you cannot always be there. None of us can.”

G’raha looked down, ears pressing flat to his head as he nodded. “She needs help. They both do, and I…”

Hien respectfully waited, though he already knew where this was going.

“I don’t know how to help them,” he admitted with a quiet sigh. “But I know how much _you_ have done for them. And I believe I’m beginning to see why…”

G’raha looked to him out of the corner of his eye with a small smile. Hien wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but he hadn’t known them before—

Before the Steppe. Before Sil’toh “Raging Bitch” Sylphystia waltzed into his life, confidence and mischief bundled up into one strong, sassy Miqo’te, and helped him liberate his nation. Before he had done the same in turn with Ala Mhigo. Before that day, on the cliff with Thancred. When he learned that they wanted him, _really_ wanted him. That day on the pier, when he realized that they wanted someone unafraid to walk into the storm and instead of trying to tame it, letting it rage around them.

Looking back, that was the day he realized he loved them, too. He took a deep breath.

“Can you take me to them?”

G’raha’s smile grew just a fraction as he nodded.

—

The glass shattered on the floor. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, pounded in her chest so hard it _hurt_.

_Snap. Snap. Snap._

It wouldn’t go away. Her hands clamped over ears pressed flat to her skull as she dropped to her knees, shaking. Thancred’s hands covered hers, she knew it was Thancred, but—

Abruptly, they were gone. She heard noises of surprise, she heard familiar voices expressing their worry. Heavy footsteps hurriedly approaching before warm hands took her shoulders. One moved to cup her cheek, the other to pry one of her hands away from her hair and place it on a strong, firm chest. She felt his breathing.

A voice cut through the noise. “Breathe with me.”

She did not truly process the owner’s identity until she had calmed down and Hien’s face had come into focus, all the love and concern she wouldn’t be able imagine written plain on his features. “H…Hien? But… I… You…”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” came G’raha’s voice. She turned to face him, finding him staring at the floor and holding his crystal arm. “I— I don’t know how to help you, and—“

“He sent Feo Ul to ask if I wanted to come,” Hien said, cutting him off. His voice was soothing. It reminded her of home, warm and comforting and sending a shiver down her spine. Doing wonders for her frayed nerves. “I said yes. Even had there not been the circumstance of your struggles, it is an opportunity to spend time with you both.”

Sil’toh didn’t really think when she all but threw herself at Hien, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and lacing her hands behind his neck in a desperate hug. He’d come here for _them_. His necklace pressed uncomfortably into her chest but she didn’t _care_, Hien was _here_ and his arms were wrapping around her, one around her waist and the other securely around her shoulders, hand in her hair. His scent, smoke and steel and sakura, a hint of sake, half a dozen other things she didn’t have the mind to name but it smelt like _home_.

“Thank you,” it fell from her lips unbidden. She wasn’t alone. “Thank you.” And this time her voice broke on the words, and Hien and G’raha weren’t sure who she was thanking.

But when G’raha looked up, Thancred had tears in his eyes but a smile on his face, thanks and love and so many things he couldn’t name plain in his expression. And he knew— he knew that he’d made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I never would've written this if it weren't for a [discord server](https://discord.gg/c8Yee9S) filled with enablers, you all know who you are  



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